I iljgl i ife^- fi^m •1 /''' A„1;X' M'- >y ^■ '7, (Ultteinge in (Jttaonfanb BY ^§omae |(^racften WITH AN HISTORICAL SKETCH SIR ROBERT STOUT, K.C.M.G. AND TREFACE SIR GEORGE GREY, K.C.B. ILLUSTRATED BY NEW ZEALAND AND ENGLISH ARTISTS »-• feia -o. 6^ •' ARTHUR T. KEIRLE DUNEDIN, WELLINGTON (New Zealand) ij SYDNEY (Australia) 1890 ttwjSombmmm mji I. '^& ^c^^ ~^^~v -!!^^S.'^'7zsi!^y7t'j ^ir^..^ ^^j rv .-V7^!^v.^'/ z^. v. 7r37i aA-^>-l^-jy^>)^*?v»x contents. ^^-^4*<*^<*-^-<^4*^4»<*4*--4*^5v4*4*- Page ONLY A MISERABLE WRETCH (with Illustration) X29 OCEAN'S ANSWER 1 33 WOMAN'S RIGHTS I36 SPIRIT OF SONG 139 CHRISTMAS MEMORIES 141 A PAPER FROM HOME (witli Illustration) 144 ST. PATRICK AND THE SHAMROCK 1 46 THE WINDS 148 THE VILEST FIEND OF ALL 151 DREAM ON 154 THE OPPOSITE SEAT 156 AWAY WITH REGRET 159 ORAKAU (with Illustration) 16 1 SLEEPING ALONE 1 66 AUSTRALIA I 68 THE BEGGAR'S PRAYER 170 NOT UNDERSTOOD . 175 PAX VOBISCUM (with Illustration) 177 LIVE AND LOVE TO DAY l8o SIX SONNETS. THE BIRD AND THE IDOL 1 82 TO 183 MORNING ABOVE DUNEDIN 1 84 THE FIRST MATCH 1 85 AMBITION, FAME, AND LOVE 186 HENRY KENDALL 187 OLD BENDIGO . . 188 DE PROFUNDIS I 9 I NEW ZEALAND HYMN 194 HOW VON TEMPSKY DIED I96 THE COLONIST (with Illustration) 200 WAITING FOR THE MAIL 204 AT SUNSET 207 THE CHRISTMAS QUEEN (with Illustration) 209 LEAH 216 THE BAD OLD TIMES 219 NOT DEAD 222 PASSiNG'THROUGH THE GATE (with Illustration) 224 THE EMIGRANT'S WELCOME 227 .^K»=--!»>;»5<^^-»»*c^k-»5.-»?v,^k-»5v»^*?^»^ CONTENTS. -^^^<9Av<^^^A»4» VII Page THE OLD LOG HUT 230 A DREAM OF CHILDHOOD (with Illustration) 241 OLD LETTERS 244 THE SOUL'S TREASURY 248 APRIL HERE, AND APRIL THERE 250 THE TRAMP OF THE FIRE BRIGADE 253 HURRAH FOR NEW ZEALAND (vvitli Illustration) 256 DUNEDIN FROM THE BAY 259 LIGHT ENOUGH 262 OUR SPARTAN WALLS 264 MEMORIA IN ETERNA . 266 AFFINITY 268 LAYS OF THE LITTLE ONES. ''up-a-daisy!" 273 among the buds 277 GOOD NIGHT TO BABY (with Illustration) 280 MOTHER'S GRAVE 282 LITTLE VIOLET 284 THE LAND BEYOND THE SUN 286 THE BOY AND THE YEAR 289 OUR LITTLE DARLING 293 ANGELS' FEATHERS (with Illustration) 296 BUSH CHILDREN 298 POEMS AND ADDRESSES. KAITANGATA 303 LONGFELLOW 306 DAVID LIVINGSTONE 309 SIR GEORGE GRAY (with Illustration) 312 IN MEMORIAM. WILSON GREY 313 O'CONNELL 317 ROBERT BURNS 320 JAMES MACANDREW 323 MRS. GEORGE DARRELL 326 GEORGE ELIOT 329 ADAM LINDSAY GORDON 331 AN EXILE'S REVERIE 333 VIII ^v.^.^^^^v^-^K^^^v'^^Sv.^^^^^ CONTENTS. 4»>;*>^-4*-.4*^4*'4*--5*-4*'4*''5»'^'t*-4*>^ Page HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL. THE SAIGE O'TIMARU . . -341 THE LAYGIND O'TERRY M'KOw (with Illustration) 345 THE PRINTER'S STICK 3 48 CHINEE JOHNNY 352 OUR PET KANGAROO 355 iSv«XMSS'v5XiA.5te.v^L/v«x».s«S5^sffS5>s«fe..«te^v«^ |g'e2S'^^eX9^'eSr'e?5"'e?S^'«X»^'eF'«2^'«Xs^'«X»''eS^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ll HERE is ever a danger of confounding analogy and identity. If it is said a State is an organ- ism — growing, developing as other living bod- ies grow and develop, — one must not assume that a nation passes through the same phases and has all the characteristics of an individual. It is a useful analogy to use^to say the State is an organism. There is, however, no identity, but often dissimilarity, between the growth of a person and that of a nation. With this caution, however, it will help us in briefly tracing the intellectual history of New Zealand — to speak of its progress in terms of growth, as if it were an organism. New Zealand began its career as a Colony in 1841. From 1832 to 1 841 it was treated as part of New South Wales, and there was a British resident in New Zealand paid by the 2 »->»K»?.»?v THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^^4*4»^ New South Wales Government up to 1840. In 1S41 it began an independent existence, having become a separate Colony on the 3rd May, 1841. British sovereignty was proclaimed on the 29th January, 1840. The colonists — most of whom, it may be said, had come from the mother colony — had been attracted thither b)- three causes. First, some had gone as missionaries; second, some were engaged in whale fishery; third, others were trading with the Natives and frequented the harbours of Auckland durino- the whale fishinof, obtaininof timber, etc., from the Islands. In 1839 the New Zealand Company was formed to provide for systematic colonisation, and in 1 840 about 1 200 settlers landed at Wellington. In 1840, also, the City of Auckland was founded, and proclaimed the capital of New Zealand; and thus began what has been the peculiarity of New Zealand settlements — the planting of settlers at different points on the coast, with little communication between them. In the other colonies there was some central point from which the settlers gradually dispersed to the outlying lands. In New Zealand the settlements were like distinct colonies, and, in the case of Canterbury and Otaeo, under distinct reliofious associations. In 1832 there was a British Resident. In 1840 came a Lieutenant Governor, acting under the Government of New South Wales. In 1841 there is a distinct government and there is a Legislative Council — a legislating and ad- ministering body rolled into one. That was the day of small things, for the European residents were but a handful. There was, however, some sale for land in Auckland, and a revenue also became possible. In 1841 the revenue from land was ^^■;i^^-m^c^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4im4»^ 3 ;^29,i36 I 28 3d, and from other sources ;^i 2,325 5s 6d — In all £41,^1.61. The expenditure gives a good clue to the Government functions. It was — Civil Service ;^ 13,82 2 12 6V2 Native 977 6 2 Land (including surveys) . . . 5.909 17 i Native Land Purchase .... 1,510 11 6 Public Works 12,123 11 5 Education 209 17 o Miscellaneous 5,547 1 1 5 Here, then, are two small communities — one in Auckland and the other on the shores of Port Nicholson — beo-innino- to found a nation; living at peace with the Maoris, with small exports (;^i7,7i7 in 1841), and larger imports as the people were arriving in the Colony with their means (;^i 33,358 in 1 841). No doubt, as Virgil has sung, the colonists left home ''Cuw sociis iiatisque penatibus et magnis dis^ and they necessarily took many elements of their social life — part of the social medium or environment — with them. But a new life and a new environment had to be built up. New Zealand was not to become merely "a bit of England" amidst a Polynesian population, hi time it would develop its own national life — its own peculiarities — its characteristic social organisation, and like a living organism, it had first to look after mere existence. The settlements were planted amidst a warlike people, numerous compared with the handful of settlers. The estimate of Maoris at that time is various, 4 »5.#5.^*^v THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. -«*4*^4*^ but in the North Island there must have been about 75,000 people when the settlers first arrived, hidustries there were none; whale oil, kauri spars in the North, some flax, a little agricultural produce from the Maoris — that was all that the Colony yet produced. Manufacturing industries were unknown. Cattle-rearing came first, and as the settlers were first located in bush land, clearing bush had to keep pace with or precede agricultural development. Provision was made for religion, and, as in England, the schools were under the control of the Church — the Church was looked upon as the proper organisation to manage education. It, and not the State, was to civilise the Maoris and to teach the young. Little by little the vote of education mounted up, beginning in 1840 at £68 15s 5d, and going up to ^209 17s in 1841; ;^200 in 1842; i^200 in 1843; ;^200 in 1844; ;^875 in 1845; £12^7, 6s 8d in 1846; ^iioo in 1847; and £ 1^466 in 1848. The Education Ordinance of 1 847 provided that one-twentieth of the revenue was to be spent on education. The schools were under either the bishop of the Anglican Church, the head of the Roman Catholic Church, or the Wesleyan Mission. At first the Maoris received the Pakehas kindly. In 1839, when Colonel Wakefield landed at Port Nicholson, there was a feast of welcome, but evil days came and misunderstandings arose. The first expen- diture for military purposes was in 1844. Heke's war began in that year. The expenses before that year were £S66 2s 9d. In 1845 they were;^7io8 iis iid; in 1846,^10, 256 1 8s I id. The total receipts from revenue and land sales being only that year ;^25,852 us 6d. A sum of ;!^io,828 was spent in 1847; and this in addition to the expenses of •$w:^.^*^c^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4»^^ the Imperial Government for military purposes. The second settlement formed by the New Zealand Company was located in Wanganui in 1 84 1 . The third was formed at New Plymouth in 1 84 1, and the fourth at Nelson also in 1841. In 1842 the first settlers direct from Britain landed in Auckland. Some few had arrived at Manukau in 1841 under the auspices of a Scotch Colonisation Company; but all the other settlers in North New Zealand had come from New South Wales or Tasmania. In 1 848 the Otago settlement was founded, the first ship, the 'John Wicklifte', arriving on the 22nd March, 1848, and the second on the 15th April,- 1848. Canterbury was founded in 1850, the first ship with the surveyors arriving in April, 1850. The first emigrant ship arrived on the i6th December, 1850. We behold the settlements formed — small nuclei planted along the coast, each struggling for an independent life- each experiencing different difficulties and trials. In the North the Native questions loomed large. No doubt the Natives were a great help to the early settlers. They cre- ated a trade at once, and they were otherwise helpful — but the existence of a foreign people had its evil side, outside and beyond what are called ''Native disturbances." It was a race trained in civilisation meetiuQ^ a race not so trained — - a race with one moral code, meeting another with quite a different rule of life. The social medium was different, and necessarily both races suffered. All the settlements had this Qrreat advantaofe — there were picked men in them all. Such men as Domett, Fox, Featherston, Fitzherbert, Sinclair, W'hitaker, Martin, 6 *^m^*^*^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4»>^>^-^ Swanson, Godley, Fitzgerald, Clifford, Pollen, Cargill, Burns, Macandrew, Gillies, Weld, Bell, Wakefield, Richmond, etc., not to mention other names as worthy, were men of whom an old nation might well be proud, and they brought with them high views of colonial life, and high ideals to live by. It was not a race for wealth which they were running, but they aimed at founding what had been happily named, "A Britain of the South." And the library was not forgotten. A newspaper was one of the first things thought of, Mr. Samuel Revans publishing on the i8th April, 1840, the second number of the 'New Zealand Gazette,' the first number having been published on the 21st August, 1839, in London. Churches were established whereever a settle- ment was formed, and they became centres of social life. Something was needed to weld society together. For it was not a whole village or town moved from Britain to some portion of New Zealand, but men and women from different parts of the empire, unknown to each other perhaps until they met on shipboard, going to form a new settle- ment. Along with churches, came schools. First, tentatively and poorly; but as the settlements got older the need of education was felt more and more, and with wise prevision, endowments were set aside, for the Colony, aimed to give in literary culture all that even England could bestow. Not however till 1869 was a University — the cope stone of an educational system — founded, and then in a small way. Three professors came to Otago in 1871, and the essentials of an arts' course were accessible to colonial students. Then came in a few years Canterbury College, ^,►5.^^^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4»4im^ y and a little later Auckland Universit\- Colleo;e. There was also established a New Zealand histitute, so that the scientific men could compare notes, and diffuse information about the natural history of the Colony. ^Musical Societies from the first were attempted, and these with man)' fluctuations have been continued with varvinof success. It is not necessary to write of physical training. For example, within nine months of the landing of the first emigrants in Otaeo we read of a challeno-e beino;" issued to the Wellington Cricket Club b}- Dunedin cricketers to meet them half-way to see whose skill should win. After cricket came football — horse racins: seems to have been even as now, popular — then lawn tennis, fishing, bowling, etc., etc. Every kind of sport and pastime has been duly acclimatised, and no doubt these have had their share in welding society together, as well as in keeping men physically strone- Then we have brouorht with us the unions and societies of the old world. Tlie Masons, Oddfellows, etc., etc., have all their lodges and unions, and as the Colony has Qfrown these have become stronof amons^st us. One great impetus the Colony got was from the dis- covery of gold. It brought to our shores men of enterprise, energy, and ability. There became new surroundings for the communities, and parts apparently doomed to desolation for a lonof time to come, so far as human habitation was concerned, became peopled. Central Otago, Westland, and parts of Nelson and Marlborough were settled by an enter- prising, hand-working and intelligent people. Settlements were born in a day. 8 ^*5..?.-*^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4*-^4»4* Then just as the gold tide was ebbing the Public Works Policy was introduced, and for the first time in the Colony's histor)- the value of exports exceeded that of imports. In 1870 the imports werei^4,639,oi5, and the exports ;!^4, 822, 756. This was the highest figure the exports had ever reached, though the imports had in 1863 been as high as ^7,024,674. Gradually after the Public Works Policy was adopted the imports rose, people came in great numbers to the Colony and they brought capital with them. The loans floated in England, and the purchase of railway plant and material necessaril}' increased the imports. Further, the mere fact of many emigrants coming to New Zealand brought settlers. The Immigration Policy that was pursued was liberal — per- haps in some instances too liberal, — as sufficient care was not sometimes taken in the selectinof of those who received Government assistance to go to the Colony. It will be noticed as the flow of people into the Colony decreases, so the imports decrease, and as the flow increases the imports increase. The Public Works Policy brought more mechanics relatively than had come to the Colony before. The first settlers had looked to whalingr and tradinof with the natives. Those who came under the auspices of the New Zealand Company, of the various settlement associations and down to the gold days, came as settlers — looking to the cultivation of the land as the aim and object of a settler's life. With the orold discoveries there came the "die2"er", seeking for a fortune, and to return soon to the country from whence he came; and with him came the usual camp followers to supply his wants. Few looked upon gold digging as a ,^jc^,>>,-*-.»5^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4*-^4* 9 permanent industr}-. The emigrants who came by and through the Pubhc Works PoHcy had not the definite aims of any of the before-mentioned classes. They were to get work — Government work, it was thought — and in time they hoped to get employment for themselves or their families. Their ideal was not a settler's cabin and a farm, nor a dio-o-er's fortune; and just as public works ceased, and as the young people born in New Zealand came to maturity, it was asked, "What were they to do?" The claimant necessity for diversified industries found expression. The Colony must have manufactures, it was said, and factory life became possible. Only now are we entering the manufacturing era — though of course the more direct and simple manufactures have been with us for many years. Hides made into leather, tallow into soap and candles, are our earliest industries. The higher type of manufactures is only now finding a home amongst us; and the set is not so much towards a country as to a town life. The population of the towns increases more rapidly than that of the outlying districts. There are no doubt reasons for this. By railways, distribution has been made easier. The villaQfe shoemaker and tailor have to give way to the town factory. The settler can get his clothing and his boots cheaper in the centres of population, and better made; and, at the same time, the workers can be better paid as specialisation in work and machinery has made production easier and cheaper. Then, again, the machinery now used in agriculture — and soon to be applied even to pastoral farming, as witness Wolsely's sheep-shearing machine — has wonderfully improved and multiplied. Fewer B lO ♦J.i*?^^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4*^4*>5* men need to live on the farms, and when workers are required the\" can be drawn from towns. Those things, more perhaps than the attractions of town Kfe, have caused migration to the towns, and it is scarcely possible that this set towards town life can be stopped unless our industries are differently managed, very small farming encouraged, and village settlements created. Our political system has passed through many phases. Beoinninof with a British Resident, then a Lieutenant Governor, both under control of the mother colony, New South Wales; we were a Crown Colony from 1841 until 1853. hi that year a new constitution was proclaimed ; a General Assembly consistinsf of the Governor, the Leo^islative Council — mem- bers nominated for life — a House of Representatives elected by freeholders and householders to manage Colonial con- cerns, and six Provinces, with a Superintendent and a Council elected by the freeholders and householders to manage purely Provincial concerns, became our government machiner}-. The Provinces were Auckland, Taranaki, Wellington, Nelson, Canterbury, and Otago — with their capitals, Auckland, New Plymouth, W'^ellington, Nelson, Christchurch, and Dunedin. At hrst the duties of the Provinces were mainly municipal, and outside of the Provincial Parliament there was little, if any municipal-life. By-and-bye came differentiation of functions. Boards of various kinds were established. Education was, after the first two or three years of Provincial institutions, managed by committees and boards of varying constitution. Roads were attended to by commissioners or elected boards under the Provincial Executive. The town centres were ^^•?.»?v^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^^^^ I I created municipalities, free from the Provincial control, save that in some instances the main road throuQfh the town was considered Provincial property. Then came diverse things requiring attention — stock, sanitation and the management of the oroldhelds; and the Provinces oro-anised bodies to meet the varying circumstances of their territory. And so the system worked on till people at a distance from the central town thouofht their interests were beine neglected. If a rival centre was established, why should there not be a new province? And if there was no splitting up of the Provinces, would they not soon become little republics, not municipalities, with no ties to each other or the Colony, and would not the Colonial Government be emaciated if not destroyed? The new Provinces Act was passed b\- those who feared Provincial development; and Hawke's Bay, Marlborough, Southland, and afterwards Westland, were its product. But what helped more to destroy the Provinces than their disintegration by multiplication was the General Government undertakinof colonisinof functions. The Public Works policy was the sledge-hammer that broke the Pro- vincial system into pieces. With loans there came interest and sinking funds to be paid, and that necessitated fresh taxation and an absorption of the revenues formerly given to the Provinces for their administration. In 1S70 the end of the Provinces was seen by few, but it soon became apparent that Abolition was within a measurable distance. The only hope of their continuance lay in specialising their functions and in entirelv separatinof their finance from that of the General Government, and that was never done. I 2 ^-^^K THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4*^4*4» Another cause that may have contributed to Abolition was the feeHng for unity that was in the air. Even the fact that the German Empire had been created, that there was a longing for closer relationship amongst other European races, had its effect on New Zealand, and on the public opinion of the Colony. It has been said that the newspaper made its appearance with the arrival of the settlers. Perhaps nothing could better show the growth of a nation than its progress in literature. The newspaper, the political pamphlet, the struggle about political means — occasionally a little theological out- burst — behold the beginnings of colonial literature! The living speech and the newspaper in the coming city, but the present village, are the means of literary culture. New Zealand had political training of a marked kind. It had to struggle for "Home Rule" as opposed to colonial office management. This struggle, extending over some years, led to debates, to pamphlets, to memorials, and to a sharp- eninof and an educatino- that had a eood mental effect on the colonists. But above all, the meeting and dealino- with a Native population afforded a field for the display of statesmanship and philanthropy. The lives of Sir William Martin and Bishop Selwyn show how they struggled to preserve the Maoris. And in the record of the Parliament- ary debates will be found flights of eloquence that are not second to the best oratory of Europe. One short extract, the closing words of one of New Zealand's statesmen (Mr. James Edward Fitzgerald, C.M.G.) may be quoted. It was spoken on a series of resolutions moved by him on the ^^•5.^.^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^>5*^ I 3 6th August, 1S62, in favour of equal rights to the ^laoris. One resolution said: — "That this House will assent to no laws which do not recognise the right of all Her Majesty's subjects, of whatever race , within this Colony to a full and equal enjoyment of civil and political privileges." Other resolutions provided for the representation of the Maoris in the Legislative Council and House of Representatives. In concluding his speech, Mr. Fitzgerald said: — "I know that evil days may come when the sacred inheritance of light and truth which God has eiven to a nation to hold and transmit, mav only be saved by an appeal to the last ordeal of nations — the trial by war; but I know, too, how great the crime which rests on the souls of those who, for any less vital cause, or for any less dire necessity, precipitate that fatal issue. I grudge not the glory of those who have achieved the deliverance of a people or the triumph of a cause by any sacrifice of human life or human happiness; but I claim a higher Qrlorv for those who, in reliance on a law more powerful than that of force, and wishing spells more mighty than the sword, have led the nation, by paths of peaceful prosperity, to the fruition of an enduring civilisation. I claim a higher glory for those who, standing on the pinnacle of human powers, have striven to imitate the government of Him who 'taketh up the simple out of the dust and lifteth the poor out of the mire.' And I claim the highest glory of all for that man who has most thoroughly penetrated that deepest and loftiest mystery in the art of human government — 'the gentleness that maketh great.' I have 1 4 *5.-^^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^4»^^4* Stood beside a lonely mound, in which lies buried the last remnant of a tribe which fell — men, women, and children — before the tomahawks of their ancient foes; and I sometimes shudder to think that my son, too, may stand beside a similar monument, the work of our hands, and blush with the ignominy of feeling that, after all, the memorial of the Christian law-giver is but copied from that of the cannibal and savage. I appeal to-night to the House to inaugurate a policy of courageous and munificent justice. I have a right to appeal to you as citizens of that nation which, deaf to the predictions of the sordid and the timid, dared to give liberty to her slaves. I appeal to you to-night in your sphere to perform an act of kindred greatness. I appeal to you, not only on behalf of that ancient race whose destinies are hanging in the balance, but on behalf of your own sons and your sons' sons; for I venture to predict that, in virtue of that mysterious law of our being by which great deeds once done become incorporated into the life and soul of a people, enriching the source from whence flows through all the ages the inspiration to noble thoughts and the incitement to generous actions, I venture to predict that, among the traditions of that great nation which will one day rule these islands, and the foundations of which we are now laying, the most cherished and the most honoured will be that wise, bold, and generous policy which gave Magna Charta of their liberties to the Maori people." The number of pamphlets and books on New Zealand and on the Native Question far exceeded those printed and published of any other colony. There were more »5.»^,5^^*^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND, ^im^^ 1 5 questions here. Political rights and the transportation of criminals were perhaps the only exciting questions in Australia. Here we had, in addition to the ordinary political struggles, the Maori, and his wars, his lands, and his treatment, and the question of Provincialism. The dift'er- ent centres fought with each other. This led not only to political, but also to literary activity. Further, as each Province was striving to bring settlers to its shores, so there were necessarily published descriptive works and sketches of the settler's life from each Provincial district. Scientific works, at first few and far between, beginning with Hooker's and Hochstetter's, were published. The engagement of Sir James Hector as Geologist by the Otago Provincial Government was here of considerable importance; for not only were his own researches of value, but he orofanised the scientific examination of New Zealand's Rocks, Fishes, Birds, etc. The founding of the New Zea- land Institute in 1869, with its annual volume of proceedings and transactions, marked a general advance; and hencefor- ward Science became systematised, though it was almost wholly to foreign-trained scientists that we looked for dis- coveries. With the rise of universitv traininof the New Zea- lander is becoming the observer and recorder of the natural history of his own country. Poetry, the Novel, and Art have only recently been found amongst us. There was no time for light literature in the early days. The hard realities of life, the struggle, as it has been said, for mere existence, for food, for dwellings, for communi- cation, and for political existence and political means, 1 6 »5vi»?.»5v THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^^4*<*4* absorbed all the literary and intellectual energy of the colonists. An individual here and there, whose tastes had been formed ere he left the place of his birth, cultivated philosophy and poetry; but to the mass there were other things of more importance. We find Domett, it is true, writing Ranolf and Amohia in the spare, and perhaps in the workinof, time of his ofhce as ReQ^istrar-General of Lands. But he was a poet before he left England. He had written man}' poerhs before the Colony was founded — e.g., "The Forest Beauties, Upper Canada," in 1834; "A Stage Coach in the Alleghanies," 1834; "A Christmas Hymn," 1837. He had been a contributor to Blackwood's Magazine in 1837, 1838, and 1839, and his Christmas Hymn had been published in America. As a describer of New Zealand scenery — especially of the wondrous hot lake regions — he had been the pioneer, and none have yet excelled him in describing the Terraces, and alas! none can now excel him, for on the loth June, 1886, the Terraces were destroyed by what is called the Tarawera Eruption. His poems had local colouring; although the first part of Ranolf and Amohia details the philosophical speculations of Europe. Little by little, stray poems appeared, racy of the soil; and then came tales for weekly papers, written by New Zealand natives and by those whose life had been almost wholl)' spent in the Colony. The first poems and the first tales, like the beginnings of American literature, were English. There was little distinctively of New Zealand in them. Local colourinsf was rare, and thouQfh tales have been multiplied, and our weekly papers once a year at ^1^^^^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND, -^-^i.^ I J least give prominent space to locally written novelletes, there is still little New Zealand in them. The United States is now getting a distinctive literature — Cooper, Bret Harte, Cradock, Clements, Whitman, are thoroughly American. We have not yet had a novel of high excellence that is wholly of New Zealand. hi poetr}- we are more fortunate, for we have i\ustralasian poets, and poems that are native to New Zea- land. We have Brunton Stephens, Gordon, Kendall, Mrs. J. G. Wilson (Austral), Parkes, Adams, Kelly, Harpur, Martin, Sladen, Wentworth, and others; and Mr. Bracken, who has published poems for many years, may be ranked as one of our best, and is one whose country is Australasia, for he has been reared in Victoria and New Zealand. He is helping, and has helped, to create a national literature; and every year shows fresh competitors for the poet's laurel, and fresh aspirants for the novelist's fame. There are more tales and more poems published in New Zealand now in one year than were published in the fifteen )"ears, say, from 1850 to 1865; and the disputes about mere political machinery are lessening. The Native question has faded away. The political struggles are neither so intense nor so prolonged. Social questions, as distinguished from polit- ical disputes, loom large, and literature ranks higher year by year. Reading is getting more diffused, and though the young Colonial has not yet the reading tastes of those of the same age perhaps in older countries — pastimes, games, etc., being more popular — this may be excused when the history of the Colony is examined. But public libraries 1 8 *5v^^^^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. -«*-5»^4*4* are eettinof abundant, the booksellers more numerous, maoaz- ine literature plentiful, and the local tales and poems much multiplied. And in the days to come these must have their influence. The University has now many students. Last year there were no fewer than 496 matriculated students in New Zealand. The schools, both primary and secondary, are better equipped and better taught than in days gone by. We have Art Societies in our various town centres, and the beginnings of art galleries in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch, and Dunedin. All these agencies will have their effect. Who can predict what the future will be? New Zealand being insular, far removed from the continent of Australia — about 1000 miles distant — having distinct natural features — will its literature be idiosyncratic ? Its high mountain ranges, its peculiar evergreen forests, its volcanic belt with its geysers, the fiords with their walls of green, and numerous waterfalls, the cold lakes with o-laciers in the distance, the Native people, their history, and the stories of the struggles between the two races, and the Pacific laving the shores, will surely beget a literature and a poesy — New Zealand's own. Nor do we think it will be open to the charge of Philistinism or narrowness — for we are not like England — two islands near a continent where many foreign languages are spoken and where intercourse in literature has been nigh impossible. We are linked with Australia, and our Mail Service to San Francisco is like a shuttle, sent monthl)', weaving as with a silken thread to sixty millions of English speaking people, having a literature yearly rising in importance and complexit)'. And we have :^.:*^«^«^*K THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^^^ 1 9 the literary impetus from the old land, too, for the English magazines and weekly journals are read bv us. We are still interested in the political and social questions discussed in their pages. We need not, therefore, be narrow or insular, though our literature may have its local colouring. A national feeling is no doubt arising amongst us. We are foreettine we are Enorlish, Irish, Scotch, German, or Norse, and we are coming to feel that we are New Zealanders. As the years roll on there will be still greater solidarity, and that seems needed before a national literature can arise. There is, however, something that will operate in the time to come most wonderfully in preventing national narrowness, and that is the migration of the people. W^e have Victorians, Tasmanians, New South W'elshmen, and South Australians, as well as Canadians in various parts of our Colony. And in all the Australasian colonies are New Zealand born men and women. The more rapid communication in these days than was dreamt of hfty years ago must have its effect, and prevent too great intenseness in our literature. Mr. Bracken is himself an example of what this migration may do. He has lived in Victoria, — and who that remembers the early digging days of the sister colony cannot appreciate "Old Bendigo!" While by us New Zealanders his pictures of our scenery and social life are highly appreciated. The pioneers then In politics, in government, In all the institutions that go to ennoble the race have done good work. The literary pioneers are now beginning to start with their "Auroras," "Philip Lalngs," and "Charlotte Joneses." 20 ^♦s.*^ THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF NEW ZEALAND. ^^^4m4m Let US hope they will be as successful in founding a national literature as the passengers in these vessels were in found- ing settlements. This may be said: Mr. Bracken need not be ashamed of his efforts. When the history of our litera- ture is written, his poem will not be forgotten, and in the future will not the labours of the writer be ranked as high as the work of the statesman or the warrior? DUNEDIN, N. Z., 1890. ROBERT STOUT. PREFACE. -s^ HAVE been asked to write a brief preface to this volume, and I willingly comply with a request which imposes no very difficult task upon me, for it is already recognised by many fllW'''^^^^in New Zealand and elsewhere, that Mr. Bracken possesses that deep sympathy with his fellow-men and with nature, which, united with purity of taste, imagination, and power of expression, go so far to form the character of a true poet. Several of the pieces in this volume will un- doubtedly be admitted to bear the impress of merit; and those treating of the sublime and beau- tiful scenery of New Zealand, are remarkable for their fidelity to nature. This alone is a merit of high order, for every country should have its distinctive character faith- fully expressed in a literature which is a reflex of the land in which it had its birth. 2 2 •J<»J^^^^^v,^»?^^»?>,#?>»?.*5>.-#?v»5.i»5v^^v PREFACE. -<*<*^^^^4»4*>^-<*rx^»i4*^<-*.^4*-.'*^^k9^:9».'^<^K PREFACE. '^-«*-^4*4»-^-^>^»-«»r4*-«*f-^4» 23 mind, and especially the incidents which spring from the mingling of two such different races, they must create a present and lasting interest in many readers. From the poetry of these first singers will also be culled out images and descriptions, which will long endure as household sayings and apt similies amongst that new race whose artistic tastes they are helping climate and nature to create and maintain in this country. Let us hope, then, that the fortunate writers who occupy the vantage ground of being the first in this new field so rich in all elements which produce and foster poetry, may call into existence a truly national literature, and that they may continue to show themselves capable of fittingly describing the beauties and wonders which here meet us on every side, from the Bluff to the North Cape, with its mystic Reinga. hi the meantime, let Mr. Bracken be welcomed as one of those Pioneer Poets of New Zealand, who have already established such claims on our gratitude and regard. Auckland, January ist, 1890. G. GREY. hey live qidqo^ us yet wb© sqW f b @ e lie /\ sleeping vipgiQ^QUPscel by sea Qr)d sky. \ _^ et ^__^ ^ _^^__^^__^ _^L_# _ ^jfe_^ _g fe__^,^ _gfe,, j!!^_g!i5-_^_^_^ -gfe-c/ /''^'^ ^^' ^^ ""^ ^~q Together let them gaily float and toss, ;; The British banner and the Starry Cross;" AAlf/'*}''* Together let them kiss the cheerful breeze That fans the islands of the sunny seas. Those silken symbols of the New and Old Have fame and honor traced on every fold. Uplift them boldly, then, with loyal hands. While fair New Zealand, Oueen of Southern lands, Holds festival, and smilingly surveys The wide expanse where Britain keeps ablaze The torch of glory as she proudly steers Her ship of Empire o'er the sea of years — Those waves for ever onward swell and glide, A non-receding and resistless tide; D 26 *>.-*$<*^w^^^^0^-*>^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^4i»^4»^4!t^^^^ Those billows that leap o'er tyranny, and climb The slopes of freedom on the coast of Time. O, bright young nation! thy brief annals seem Like mao^ic fables told in dazzling dream. They live among us yet, the men who saw Thy mountains ere the light of love and law Illumined thee, and wak'd thee from thy trance To hear God's voice command thee to advance, And take a proud position in the van Of States that shape the destiny of man; They live among us yet who saw thee lie A sleeping virgin, nursed by sea and sky, With wasted wealth in wild profusion strewn Across thy breast. But fifty years have flown Since gallant Wakefield and his comrades gazed Upon thy shores, delighted and amazed; A little later still — just fifty years — Since hill and vale re-echoed British cheers Proclaiming thee a daughter, fair and free, Of that old mother who commands the sea. O, proud "Aurora," ship of happy name, With thee the dawn of peace and progress came; With thee the light of liberty appeared; The virgin started as thy captain steer'd His noble vessel through the restless Strait That leads to wide Poneke's' open gate. I Port Nicholson. •5<,5<»5>.»5<»5<»?>;^>.^.^.»?.^v^v»?^ JUBILEE DAY. ^-5»>^4w4*<*^-5*<*^<*-^<*r 27 The virs^in rose, her dreaming days were o'er, Desthied to sleep in solitude no more; New life and vigor filled her joyous heart As Nature from the Old World beckoned Art To her assistance, and Religion came To kindle here the Gospel's holy flame; And Commerce followed, dressed in snowy shrouds; And Science brought her treasures from the clouds. Oh, for some master's brush, some poet's pen. To sketch the bridge connecting Now and Then! Oh, wondrous age! with grand achievements fraught, Behold the change that fifty years have wrought. Where now the Central City stretches wide. And seaward pushes back the conquered tide, Wild forests, rich in every tint of green, Mantled the hills and beautified the scene; Where now the ships assemble to outpour The garnered wealth of many a distant shore. The white foam, 'scaping from the waters blue. Swept up the beach and lapped the rude canoe; Where once the swarthy chief held savage sway, The sun of progress sheds his brightest ray. O, transformation grand! — the rushing train Pierces the mountain to unlock the plain. Where yelling foemen fought, we welcome now The steaming herald of the spade and plough; Round happy homesteads flocks and herds increase And fruitful fields are dressed in robes of peace. Well may the Central City raise her voice, 28 '»k*5v,^^'^>.^.»5v»5^'»5k musings in MAORILAND. >«»r<*4*-^4*>5* ^>^-«».^ And summon all her cliildren to rejoice; She saw with pride a future nation born, And hails with mirth New Zealand's natal morn. What wonder that fair Auckland with her vies To claim the honor of the birthday prize? States such as this bright land have seldom birth, Freedom has few such homes upon the earth. Oh, lovely city of the sunny isles! Be proud to-day, and wear thy gladdest smiles. Thou hast a glory which is all thine own. Bold mariners found shelter near thy throne When tameless tribes roamed wild in rude array, And followed savage chiefs through feud and fray. But savage though they were, those chiefs of old, Their swarthy breasts held hearts of lions bold; Unconquered heroes they, whose fathers brave In ancient times subdued the wind and wave; Dark navigators, fired with conquest's flame, Across the deep from distant shores they came To found new homes. Well worthy of the place Were those old chiefs, and worthy of the race That came to lead them to a higher plane, Where Law and Justice claim the right to reign. Be proud, then, Auckland! Thy traditions give A greatness to thee. Envy cannot live Amidst such charms as thine. Thy isles and bays Command the painter's and the poet's praise; Old Ranofitoto oruards a matchless scene — The royal sentry of an ocean queen. ♦j>»?.»?v^v^5>»?v.^.*5>.^v*^»^^c»K JUBILEE DAY. <*r^5»^5*4»<*4*^>5*f^^i»^5*<*^ 29 Now, winging southward on this day of glee, The muse proclaims a gladsome jubilee Where Avon's stream, with many a twist and twine. Steals softly on, in tracings serpentine. Through willow arches green, by English lanes That skirt the City of the Fertile Plains. And louder still the swelling chorus thrills Around the stately City of the Hills. Superb Edina of the South! 'tis thine To hold to-day the treasures of the mine; The costly fabrics of the mart and mill; Rare trophies of the clever craftsman's skill; Triumphs of toil, of industry, and trade; Wonders of art and science — all displayed Within the noble temple raised to Peace, Whose shrines are deck'd with nugget, sheaf, and fleece; Whose altars groan 'neath earth's prolific yield. The riches of the valley and the field; Whose courts, and aisles, and avenues, and bays Afford bright glimpses of the coming days, When war's red eagle, perched beneath the dove. Shall typify the majesty of Love. Prophetic visions flash across the mind — Another fifty years are left behind. And lo the change! — -A grander race of men, With fuller knowledge and with broader ken, Are masters of the land; the fruits of toil Are garnered by the children of the soil — Bold sons of freemen privileged to rear ^O ♦^•^••^•^^•^^•^♦^^♦js MUSIN(;S IN MAORI LAND. >?*^5*^<*^s*-^-«*^<»><^.<*r The nation's superstructure strong and fair. New cities start to life, with stirring streets, And open liarbors welcome foreign fleets. The virofin now to womanhood has orfown; Her strength developed, she can stand alone. Glad songs her grand Centennial proclaim, And sister nations spread New Zealand's fame; And we, who meet upon this half-way stage, Shall be remember'd in that forward aee. The echoes of our Jubilee shall last Till then, and wed the future to the past; The men who crown the apex then shall pay Due homage to the builders of to-day. And, gazing o'er the gulf, shall think with pride Of our rejoicings at this new-year-tide, As we look back across our fifty years, And laud the labors of the pioneers Who firmly laid the keystone of a State Where proud Poneke guards the restless Strait. POEMS. GRAVE AND GAY. ^"^^^^s^^^M^f^^^' \AAA. /YY¥¥¥^WWWWW^WWW¥WWWWWWWWWWW'W'WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW\ STURTS LAST LETTER. ''^-- X the Auckland Free Library, among the vakiable manuscripts presented to that institution by Sir George Grey is a letter written by the celebrated Australian explorer, Captain Sturt, to ^'^■""^ the Knieht of Kawau, in which the writer complains of the neglect exhibited towards him by ^ the Imperial Government. Sir George Grey used his ^ influence in the hope of procuring for Captain Sturt the honour of knighthood which he had so nobly earned, but the Government of the day did not respond to the recommendation, and Captain Sturt died without a suitable recognition being made of his valuable labours in the cause of exploration. The letter was written from Cheltenham, England, where the brave Australian pioneer breathed his last. 34 '^'^•^^♦J^*^'^'*^':^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '^4»^a*^4»^4»4»4»4» STURT'S LAST LETTER. Do heroes always wear the crowns they've won? Do honours ahvays wait the pioneers Who brave the Arctic snows and tropic sun To carve out greatness for the future years ? Are nations ahvays gen'rous to the men Who venture forth with dauntless hearts to trace New paths where man may walk with broader ken To found new empires for the coming race? Let hist'ry answer, while the blush of shame Mantles her features as she turns aside To weep for those who climb'd the hill of fame, Yet, unrewarded by their country, died. »5<»5>»j>,^»j..^^#5.-^^»5.^»».^»?^»K STURT'S LAST LETTER. >t*^5*>%»-5»>5*>5*-«w^.^ 35 'Twas April when the English fields are clad In green and gold, and all the tints of spring, When love and hope and health make young hearts glad. And through the leafy lanes the linnets sing. 'Twas sunny April when the kindling clod Bursts into life, — when orchards are abloom, When Nature, waken'd by the touch of God, Shakes off her cerements, rising from the tomb. 'Twas April when old earth again seems young. The season when man breaths a purer breath ; When sorrow's language seems an unknown tongue, • And in youth's book there's no such word as Death. But April has its clouds that veil the sun. Its sullen shadows, flitting now and then Across the sky, till all seems drear and dun. Like gloomy thoughts that shade the hopes of men. Sad night was creeping o'er the Cotswold Hills Across the footsteps of an April eve. The forest birds had ceased their merry trills, And from the land the sun had ta'en his leave. 36 *^*^^^^ff^^f^^*^*^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. 4»4»4»4»4»4»^(»^^^4» Stricken by sickness in a silent room, Nursed by his wife the old explorer lay, And Retrospection, flashing through the gloom. Brought back the scenes he loved, far, far away. "Dear wife, the shades of night are near, And weird-like clouds are scudding by; I've watched them come and disappear, Like grey ghosts flitting o'er the sky, And while I watched I wander'd far hi waking dreams to that fair land Where first I followed Fame's bright star, Through deserts drear and forests grand; Again I stood, in manhood's prime, A leader of the orallant few Who labour'd for the after time, With dauntless hearts and courage true; Again beneath the yellow blaze Of Austral's summer sun we march'd, Across the plains where Darling strays Through wildernesses pale and parch'd. Once more on Murrumbidgee's flood We swept along — my mates and I, ,5,»^-^^jc#^»^#?o^*?>»^^»5v STURT'S LAST LETTER. ^<^4m^^4^^4»^ 2)7 While oil the banks the wild men stood And raised their spears with savage cry. But one grand object fired my soul. And God's protecting hand was near To guide me to the wished-for goal, — I felt His power and knew not fear. I was His humble instrument, His harbinger to lead the way, — The herald of His grand intent, With message of His coming day. I knew that in the wilderness A prouder Britain soon should rise. That millions yet unborn would bless Salvation's emblem in the skies. Which pointed to the golden shore Where Peace would rule and Progress reign, And Plenty keep her richest store, And commerce sway the southern main. With thoughts like these, in danger's face I boldly looked with fearless gaze, I felt my mission was to trace New paths through Nature's hidden ways. Oh! happy hour! w^hen floating through, By bank and bend and leafy sweep, The ^lurrav burst upon our view, And caused our hearts with joy to leap. Eureka! it is ours at last. Thank God, we've found the silver key That can unlock an empire vast, — 38 ^^v-^'^i^v-^^i^^sc^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >«*-4»r>«*.«w>«».^>5»>«»>«w>«* And ope a gateway to the sea. Then floating down by wood and wold, And islets in fresh verdure drest, We came to where the Darling rolled His waters into Murrays breast. You know the sequel — well 'twas mine To help to build that thriving State. Famed for its corn, its wool, and wine — A future nation proud and great. 'Twas mine to serve my native land Beneath that man of noble mien, Who knew the secret of command. And sway'd the sceptre of our Queen. He still remains our faithful friend. Though years have rolled away since then. Ah! that reminds me, I must send An answer to his note — A pen. My love, there's ink and paper here, My hand is trembling, yet I'll try To write to him, our friend so dear, And warmly thank him ere I die. ' Tis finished, I have told him why I sought some honour from the State, Some thanks from those in stations high; He knows I've earn'd a better fate ^v»^:9X*^^.9$<*>.^»^^«^«^^ STURT'S LAST LETTER. -^«* 5*>^<»-4»-^5*4*4» 39 Than that I've met with, but alas! I've learned how Governments bestow Their favours here — but let it pass; What are distinctions here below, Compared to those which wait above For souls that do their duty here; The light of God's eternal love To me shall soon make all things clear. I care not for earth's honours now, Men's praise is as the passing wind, I sought a wreath to bind my brow, For sake of those I leave behind. Nay, weep not, wife, be not downcast. Despatch this missive to our friend, Tell him this letter is my last: I see the shadow of the End." THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA/ j ITH the exception, perhaps, of the celebrat- W ed NgapLihi chief, Hongi, no Maori warrior, during the present century, was the cause of so much bloodshed as the remarkable subject of the following poem. The Nga- titoa, of which Te Rauparaha was the head occupied, for centuries, the beautiful country lying between Kawhia and Mokau on the western side of the North Island, and though insignificant in point of numbers, when compared with many of the leading tribes around them, they had long been celebrated for their prowess as warriors. About the year 1820, firearms began to be extensively used in native warfare, and the shrewd chief, Rauparaha, seeing the immense advantage which the lucky possessors of these destruc- tive weapons had over their enemies, resolved to capture Kapiti and the country around Wellington, in order to come I Pronounced "Rouprrah". -Jijold o[ hcari and stroncf of hand, j=ornncd 1b rule and to comnnand ! •^*?.•^*5<^^^•^•»5c^THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA.-^<»^^-5»-^>^ 4 1 into closer communication with the Pakeha traders, who at that time were importing- muskets in large quantities from Sydney and England. He conceived the idea of invading the country, and he was strengthened in this resolve by a visit which he paid to Kapiti in company with the renowned warrior, Tamati Waka Nene, who strongly urged him to undertake the expedition. Accordingly he mustered his whole tribe, numbering about 400, and left' the land of his forefathers for ever. The scene at the setting out of the expedition was very affecting. The entire tribe gathered on the hill of Moetoa, and wept like children over Kavvhia. A short time previous to this, Hape Tuarangi, chief of the Ngatiraw- kawa, appointed Rauparaha as his successor, his own sons refusing to take the lead; and consequently this and some other tribes were allies, to some extent, of the Ngatitoa, and several of them took part in the expedition. The line of their march lay through Waitara, Hawaka, Taranaki, and Manawatu, at all of which places they fought and conquered, feasted and rested, sweeping hostile tribes before theni in all directions, and making hundreds of slaves, whom the}- kept for their feasts on the march. After capturing Kapiti and the surrounding country, Rauparaha directed his attention of the Middle Island, and invaded it with a strong band of warriors, who carried death and destruction before them. The siege of Kaiapoi, one of the bloodiest battles in the annals of Maori warfare, is still remembered by many of the Middle Island natives, and "Bloody Rauparaha's" memory is yet held in execration by them. A most interesting paper, entitled the "Life and Times of Te Rauparaha," by W. T L. 42 ^*^^><*^-*^^^^9^*^^9^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^*4w^5*4*^5*'^*^^5»r4*>^^5» Travers, F. L. S., will be found in the "Transactions of the New Zealand Institute, 1872," to which the author of the following poem is indebted for the information wliich suggested "The March of Te Rauparaha." THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA. Rauparaha's war chant, Rauparaha's fame song, Rauparaha's story Told on the harp strings, Pakeha harp cords Tuned by the stranger. Mighty chief of the Ngatitoa, Sprung froni the hero, Hotorua, First of the braves who left Hawaiki Over the sea in the great Tainui,' Petrified now by thy shore, Kawhia. Weird Tainui, I Tapu, Tapu,^ I The sacred canoe in which the first Maories came from Hawaiki or Hawea. 2 Sacred, holy. ■♦^^»5>a^:^^<^»jK-^THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA. ^^•<»^<*>^>5*43 Tapu, long ere the pale pakeha Came to the shrine, adored for ages, Came to the shrine! oh desecration, Prying into the things forbidden. Moan the waves, Moan the waves, Moan the waves as they wash Tainiii, Moan the waters of dark Kawhia, Moan the winds as they sweep the gorges. Wafting the sad laments and wailings Of the spirit that haunt the mountains — • Warrior souls, whose skeletons slumber Down in the caverns, lonely and dreary, Under the feet of the fierce volcano, Under the slopes of the Awaroa! Moan the winds. Moan the winds. Moan the winds, and waves, and waters, Moan they over the ages vanished. Moan they over the tombs of heroes, Moan they over the mighty chieftains Sprung from giants of far Hawaiki ! Moan they over the bones of Raka, Moan they over the Rangatira Toa, who founded the Ngatitoa! Moan they over Wera Wera, Sire of him, Sire of him. Sire of him they called Te Rauparaha! 44 ♦^^•^^^'^•^♦?v*3< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^Av^4i>f:4»Ai^4»4»^A» Echoes of the craggy reeks, Echoes of the rocky peaks, Echoes of the gloomy caves, Echoes of the moaning waves, Echoes of the gorges deep, Echoes of the winds that sweep O'er Pirongia's summit steep. Chant the Rangatira's praise, Chant it in a thousand lays, Chant the Rangatira's fame. Chant the Rangatira's name, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! Sound his praises far and near. For his spirit still is here Flying through the gusty shocks. When the sea-Qfhosts climb the rocks Clad in foam shrouds, thick and pale. Woven by the howling gale hi the ocean's monster loom! Warp of green and weft of gloom Woven into sheets of white By the wizards of the night; Chant his name each ocean sprite, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! ^^^^•^■^^^■^■^^^^^.^^THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAIIA. >5*^-<*<*^^'^ 45 No wild hero of romance, Born in dreamy poet's trance, Cradled in some mythic fane, Built up in the minstrel's brain On imagination's plan! — No such hero was this man, He was flesh and blood and bone, Standing forth erect, alone, Hitrh above his fellows known! — Hist'ry paints what he hath done, Maori valour's bravest son — Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! Quick of eye and lithe of limb, Warriors bent the knee to him! — Bold of heart and strong of hand, Formed to rule and to command! Suckled on a breast that gave Milk of heroes to the brave! — Richest fruit of Toa's seed. Scion of heroic breed. Born to conquer and to lead! Strongest branch of noblest tree From Hawaiki o'er the sea, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! ^6 ^^^■*^*^*^-*^^*^^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. 4»4!m^^^^^^^^ Wild as eagle, tame as dove, Fierce in battle, fond in love. When Marore, his young bride. For some sweeter relish sighed — Some more dainty toothsome dish — Than the Kamera' and fish. Rushed he, with a chosen band^ To the orreat Waikato's land, And procured a relish sweet — Raunga's flesh was tender meat — Soon Marore had a treat, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! Mothers of Waikato wail, Spearmen of Waikato quail, All the deeds that ye have done, All the glories ye have won, Pale 'fore Wera Wera's son! He is master of the field. To his sway your homage yield. He has tamed Waikato's pride, To your whares run and hide! Fly before his conqu'ring spears — Bursts his war-cry on your ears, Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha ! I Sweet Potato. %5.»^»?>»5v»^»x»j.^^^^ THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA.^-6*>^^^<*^ 4/ Te Taurangi, dying, said: "Who shall lead when I am dead? Who shall prove niy people's might On the war-path, in the fight? Will my sons not take my place, Guard the honour of my race?" Silent were the chiefs and men The Ariki' spake again: — "Who will now my station fill?" All the chiefs were silent still: — Cried a voice; "I will, I will." Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! "Listen to your chief, ye braves, Kapiti, by distant waves, Where the pakeha's canoes Laden with the fire-spears cruise. Shall be niu ' for our dead ! — Valiant Waka Nene said — As he there stood close by me On the coast: 'Oh, Raha,^ see That great people sailing free. With your tribe to them draw nigh, And your enemies shall fly. Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! I Head chier, First-born, Priest. ^ Reward, satisfaclion. 3 Great, open, extended. 48 »?s.*K^*!>»^'^^'^v'^v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -4»4»>5»-^.^4*^-^-^4»'<» "Oh, my people, let us go Where the distant waters flow. Leave Kawhia unto those Who no lonoer are our foes! Great Te Wherowhero, stay, Guard our land when we're away, From Kapiti's distant shore To this land we'll come no more; Bring our axes, mats, and spears. Onward, onward, conquest cheers, On Kawhia leave our tears," Te Rauparaha, Te Rauparaha! Beneath the purple canopy of morn That hung above Kawhia's placid sheet Of waters crystalline, arose on high rhe golden shield of God, on azure field. With crimson tassels dipping in the sea! And from its burnished face a shower of rays Shot up the hills and gilt their spires and peaks In lambent sheen, until the turrets seemed Like precious ornaments of purest gold On mighty altars raised by giant priests hi olden times, to offer sacred fire As sacrifice unto the Fount of Light, From whence the planets and the myriad stars .^■»5>.^<^^^,^»j>.^:^TIIE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA.>5*-^4*r>^*^>?*-^49 Drink their effulgence! In the wild ravines And gorges deep, the limpid babbling creeks Sang matins, as they left their mother hills To mingle in united waters, where They lost their little selves, and merged in one Pellucid flood that gathered stronger life From day to day ! as God's great Human Churcli, Now building on the earth, shall gather all The little sects and creeds and small beliefs That split mankind into a thousand parts, And meroe them in one universal flood Of boundless charity. The dazzling points Of morning's lances pierced the bursting hearts Of all the flow'rets on the fertile slopes. And waked the red Kowhai's drops from sleep, And shook the dew-beads from the Rata's lids. Until its blossoms opened up their breasts And gave their fragrance to the early breeze That played among the Koromiko's leaves. And stole the rich Tawhiri's sweet perfume. And strung the flax-leaves into merry tune To woo the Bell-bird from his nest, to ring The Tui up to sing his morning hymns. The scene was made for man, not savage man, The cunningest of brutes, the crafty king Of beasts! but Man, the Spiritualized, With all the lioht of knovvledo^e in his brain. ^O '*^»5>:i^^.#5^^»5>a^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. <*-/^'<»-^»4*;4»-<*s4»-^4w With all the lioht of love within his heart! And yet they were but savages who stood On Moeatoa 's hill, above the scene, Mere savages, a step beyond the brute! But still there were bright sparks of God-lit fire Within their breasts ! they loved their native vales With heart and soul! for they had hearts and souls Far nobler than some milk-faced races who Have basked 'neath Calv'ry's sun for ages long, And yet lie grov'lling in the nation's rear. With hearts encased in earth too coarse and hard For Calv'ry's glorious light to penetrate. Poor savages that Orient had not yet Shed its benignant rays upon their souls, To melt the dross that dragged them down to earth hi carnal bonds ! they knew not yet the road To reach the standard of their better selves. Yet they were men in all save this! brave men With patriots' hearts, for as they' stood and gazed O'er fair Kawhia's waters, hills and vales That stretched unto the sea, o'er which their sires hi ages past sailed from Hawaiki's shores, The tears ran down their tatooed cheeks, and sobs Welled from their bosoms, for they loved the land W^ith all the love intense a Maori feels For childhood's home! The hist'ry of their tribe Was written there on every rock and hill That sentinelled the scene, for these had known Their deeds of prowess, and their fathers' deeds •^.•?>»5.^^^*j.-^-*^*^THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAI[A.^.<»^-<*>5»r-5*^ 5 I Of valour! And the caverns held the bones Of those from whom they'd sprung! Their legends wild, And weird traditions, chained them to the place, And ere they burst those links of love, they gave A long sad look on each familiar spot And wailed above Kawhia's lovely vale. "Oh! Kawhia, remain. Cavern, gorge, and bay. Valley and hill and plain, We are going away. "Oh! Kawhia, remain, Take our tears and our sighs; Spirits of heroes slain, Rise up from Reinga,' rise. ,,Oh! Kawhia, remain, With thee, Tawhaki," stay, Long may he o'er thee reign - W^e are going away." 1 Abode of departed spirits. 2 A hero god. 52 ^^^^^♦5v»5.'^<»5^^v.»5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^^M^^AM^fr-^^A^^*^^ "Enough, enough of childish grief, Ready, ready for tlie fray, March behind your miglity chief, Chant aloud the battle-lay. "Away, away with tears and sighs, Water stains the warrior's eyes, Conquest is the hero's prize, Te Rauparaha is here. "Away, away with sighs and tears, Raise your war-cry, point your spears, Onward, onward, vict'ry cheers, Te Rauparaha is here. "Away, away each plaintive wail, Only cowards whine and quail. Sniff we blood upon the gale, Te Rauparaha is here. "Warriors march, warriors march, On, on, on to Kapiti. Pillage and slay. Away and away, On, on, on to Kapiti. ■^♦^♦^♦5..^^*5>*^»^riIK MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA. ^^•'^•^^^^•^ 5 3 Warriors march, warriors march, On, on, on to Kapiti. Scour every plain, Feast on the slain, On, on, on to Kapiti." March the warriors ahead. Conquest in their fiery eyes. Haughty Tutakara's dead, Ngatimaniapoto flies ! False Te Wherowhero's band, Left to guard Kawhia's land. Steal like robbers in the night, Steal like dogs upon the brave! Ha! they're vanquished in the fight. Crushed beneath the hero's might; Cries their chief — "Oh, Raha, save My people!" False Waikato, run. Dim not Nofatitoa's sun! Ho! the feast has now begun, Heroes, sit ye down and eat, This Waikato flesh is sweet. By the banks of Taupo's flood Valiant Whatanui stays! Whatanui's words are good, Speaks he in our chieftain's praise. Taranaki's hills are passed. The Waitot'ra's reached at last. 54 '^'^►Jv-^^i^*^.*?^^ MUSINGS IN MAOKILAND. .<»:4im4»A»^M-^--'*^*^^^'*^*>-'^^'*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >^4*-^4v-^4v-<«*^»^5*rxi^ "The sea rushed up with plunging shocks, Kapai ! ' Rauparaha ! To claim the land. and beat the rocks, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! The rocks stood firm and broke the waves; So stood the Noatitoa braves — Ngatitoa's foes are slaves, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! "The stars came out to match the sun, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! To claim the crown that he had won, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! The sun shot forth its brightest rays, And quenched the stars in fiery blaze; Then chant the Ngatitoa's praise, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! "The Tuis came the Hawk to kill, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! And yet the Hawk is living still, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! The Hawk can soar, the Hawk can fight - The Tuis tried to stay his flight — The Hawk shall have a feast to-night, Kapai ! Rauparaha ! " ' Good. .^*5..^»5^»~-^*5>»^^5«4*4*-^4»«*r-5* 5 The conqueror's red e\'es are now fixed on the distant coast, For news has reached the victor's ears of Rerawhaka's boast, That he, with tooth of shark, would rip Te Rauparaha in twain. The hero cannot rest until this brao^crart chief is slain. The war canoes are read)-, and the warriors are here; From Rangitoto, flushed with pride, to Kaikoura they steer. Three hundred braves have landed, and sweep upon their foes. As fiercely as the cataracts fed by Mount Una's snows Sweep wild through Spencer's mountain cleft, and down through Ada's vale! The dying shrieks in chorus harsh are borne upon the gale. Te Rauparaha has waded deep in boastful foemen's gore, And Rerawhaka's bones shall bleach on far Kapiti's shore. Full fourteen hundred victims have been conquered in the fray — The Niho Manga^ shall be famed in legend and in lay For evermore, for there was tamed proud Rerawhaka's pride: But Kaiapoi is defended still, and strongly fortified — Te Pehi has been slaughtered within its treacherous walls — The Xeatitoa cannot rest until base Kaiaooi falls. Fierce and fast, fierce and fast Rush the Ngatitoa men, Now^ the outer works they've passed - Now they're beaten back again. I Battle of the Shark's tooth. H 58 '^.»5.'^-^v»5^*^*j>^»5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5v-i^>^.^>^>^.^>5«-<*^ Bullets fly, bullets fly,' Valiant men of battle fall, Still the force within defy Ngatitoa, chief and all. Through the swamp, through the swamp Comes Taiaroa to their aid; Rush the outposts, lire the camp. Burn each fence and palisade. Through the fire and through the smoke. Swiftly Ngatitoa broke With a scream and a )-ell; And the grlare and the flare Of the fire-tongues in the air, Flunq- a demoniac lio-ht On the horrors of the fieht; And the children in affright. And the w^omen in despair, Shrieked for mercy, but in vain. And the blazino" timbers threw A ghastly lurid hue On the wounded and the slain. I Muskets and other European weapons were used at the siege of Kaiapoi. ^■^•5<»K»5*^»?^»K#^THE MARCH OF TE RAUPARAHA.^5*<^<*>5*4*:4*<» 59 And as the fierce lisfht orleamed On the warriors, thev seemed Like fiends unloosed fi-om hell. A struQ;orle, fierce and short, And the keepers of the fort Were slaughtered for the feast, And the red sun in the west Went down as Kaipaoi fell. "Tanori,' tano^I o'er the dead, Kapai! Rauparaha! Make the ovens hot and red, Kapai I Rauparaha! Death, and bondaofe, and disgrace Come to all w'ho dare to face Ngatitoa's conqu'ring race, Kapai I Rauparaha! "Slaves should have but little words, Kapai! Rauparaha! Little sono's for little birds, Kapai! Rauparaha! Little Tuis should not tr\- With their little winofs to flv Where the Hawk is perched on high, Kapai! Rauparaha! I Shout, CIV. 6o '^>.*^*^»^»^*5v*j.*?v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >^4*>^4*<*-^-^-^-^-^ "Come, O sea! and don't refuse Kapai! Rauparaha! Treasure-laden war canoes, Kapai! Rauparaha! All are conquered, all is won, Wera Wera's might}' son Rauparaha's great march is done, Kapai! Rauparaha!" TAR AWE R A. (June ioth, i836.) -^^*IGHX Sleep, and Silence brooded o'er the place; Their dark-brow'd sister, Death, crouched close at hand , ^ The moon eave one sad orlance, then hid her face Behind the sombre clouds that draped the land. Night, Sleep, and Silence fled: A roar! A quake! Peal after peal of thunder! Flakes of smoke — And strong convulsions made the mountains shake, As if from dungeons deep the Titans broke. Fierce tongues of lire shot up to lap the clouds, Volcanoes belch'd their lava in the air, Jagged projectiles tore the sable shrouds That veil'd the moon; while through the gloom and glare Whirlwinds of meteors shot round and round. And blood-red dragons, yoked to blazing cars. Bursting from Tartarus, with frantic bound, Plun'jed on through thunder bolts and liorhtnin_Q: bars. 62 '•?>.^>?^*5v^»5^*5v^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '5*^^>5*x5*'<»4*4*;<*4*-^ Pregnant with horror, from the Stygian deep Rolled out in columns dense Hell's sulph'rous fumes, And over Tarawera's highest steep Enfranchised demons waved their flaming plumes. The waters shriek'd, and crash'd the mountain's wall In boiling cauldrons, roaring in their rage; Deep chasm and vortex yawn'd and swallow'd all The wonders that had lived throuo-h man^■ an aofe. How small is n^an — how feeble his distress? — When Nature's evil passions are up-stirr'd, Poor human atoms sink to nothinmiess, ^D Their agonising cries are all unheard. Unheard bv us below; but far above The earthquake's thunder, there are mansions where V The tones of ano-uish and the notes of love, The cry for mercy, and the fervent pra)-er Rise o'er the groans of mountains. God can hear His children's earnest pleadings; He can see The mother bendinof o'er her darlino^'s bier — The suff'ring spirit struggling to be free. A flying thought! Are human souls the same, Nathless the hue and texture of the skin.-^ We prize the picture and regard the frame Just as we do the case for that within. If pure and shapely — be it black or white — It matters not the outside of the mould ; The diamond set in copper shines as bright As that encircled in the finest Qfold. Upon the morning of that fearful da\" ♦^^»5^»^»^»5>»5>»?^»5>*X»5>»K^^v»Ju*=^ TARAWERA. ^%*-^-^>^»>5«-«*4*4*4*'^'«i»'^ 63 God's handmaid, Duty, saw brave spirits shine. She noted not the colour of the clay That held such souls ; she saw the ray divine Which flash'd in noble deeds, and won a crown Of hicrhest worth — a costly diadem — Theirs for all future time is true renown; Angels shall praise and men shall honour them. They're with us )'et; but should we mourn the dead? Weep if you will — tears sometimes bring relief — Sorrow is ours to-da)-, not theirs, who've fled — Beyond the grave they know not earthly grief The world will soon forofet them; — race on race In quick succession move across life's plain. Others shall come, but we cannot replace That 'witchino- scene — it will not come aa^ain. Why should we wonder if so sad a change Should call the Taipo up — the weird canoe. With ghostly warriors? Ay, the story 's strange, But stranofer stories still are sometimes true. When ruin hanofs above his native earth, The patriot's spirit 'scapes to see once more The hallow'd scenes around his place of birth — The hills and vales and lakes he loved of yore. \\ hen Tarawera trembled to her base, And shook the bones of heroes in her womb. The chiefs took mortal shape to warn their race Of coming danger and impending doom. Oh, fairy wonderland of love and light. Where long ago wild cascades fell asleep 64 '*^'*^^^-*^»^-*^*^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. A*4»^^^4:m-^4»4»4»Am In IVrian beds of sculptured stalactite, And dreamed themselves away in curve and sweep! Oh, frescoed fountains! Oh prismatic sheen! Oh iridescent showers of diamond spray! Oh, lake cerulean set in richest o-reen! Oh, glories traced in pink and white and grey! Oh, hallow'd spot, whose grandeur hlled the soul With thoughts sublime — with reverence and awe; Whose altars grand were carved with many a scroll, Quaint hieroglyphics of some mystic law! Vanished! we cannot realise the thouoht. Has wilful Nature, in a frenzied flight, Heap'd ruin on the lov'liness she wTought — Destroyed her work of ages in a night? Weird transformation! terrible recast! Where order reio^ned is heard confusion's roar. Fierce devastation buries, all the past — All is chaotic riot — nothing more. ■^ettbalh bell arc lollincf, lollin Conic and Worship, conoe and pray." IN THE TEMPLE. x^jRISE! arise from thy sluggish dreams, ^ Q Softly whispered my soul unto me; ''Bountiful Nature her treasure teems Over wood, mountain, valley and lea ; Earth has opened her pores to the sun, Health and wealth through her arteries run ; Arise ! let us go to the Temple. "The priestess, Spring, on her altars green. Glorifies God in her morning" dress ; Nature, attired in vernal sheen, Leads up her child to the sun's caress ; God is breathino- throuQ:h her on the hills. His voice is heard through the brooks and rills; — Arise ! let us go to the Temple. I 66 ^^«^*^-^*?-»5<»5^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^A»A»^^»4»4»4»4»4!m4» "Others may look for the Light above, Throuofh narrow cao-es of wood and stone, Cabined within from the rays of Love ! Up on the hills we're nearer the Throne. This is the Sabbath, and I am free," Softly whispered my soul unto me, "Arise ! let us go to the Temple." AT MATINS. I followed ni)- spirit up the steps of the might}' altars. Draped in brightest green, rising o'er the sea; I gazed through the open bodice of Spring, and saw her bosom Swelling with rich nutrition and pouring Earth's milk in streams prolific over hedges, meads and orchards, Leaving its perfumed cream on the hawthorn; I saw the pink tint of her health)' cheeks on the fresh heath beds Where she had rested all through the winter; I saw the impress of her rosy lips on the banks and slopes Where she had kissed the tears from the flowerets; I saw rich threads of her orolden hair on the wild broom and furze — Her yellow ringlets on the wattle-trees; I saw her invested with her sacred robes, standing erect On topmost step of the highest altar; ^,^»K^-:^»5-»5^»^-^c»?^»^'^^ IN THE TEMPLE. >^-^^^^5*r4«>^<»^^5*r>5* 6/ I watched her swing'ino- her orolden censers to the azure dome, And as the fragrant incense mounted hiorh The mighty organ, worked by Ocean-sprites, boomed grand and solemn Through the lofty Temple, and Nature's choir Of birds and insects, brooks and zephyrs, burst forth in melody. And praised the Omnipresent God in song: — "Spirit of Omnipotence, M3-stic Soul of every sense, Truth sublime and Love intense, Nature smiles before Thee; Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, All the Seasons to Thee brino^ Tribute; Lord of everything. Father, we adore Thee. "Centre of Eternal Light, Nature's forces all unite Praising Thee, the hifinite, — Nothing shall io^nore Thee. Take, Oh! Power that gave us birth, All our music and our mirth, All the sweetness of the earth — Father, we adore Thee. 68 •jv^^^s.vK^*^.'^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '«*'^4*^^-^-^*r/^^^ 4»4^ "Framer of Creation's laws, Source of all that is, and was, And shall be — Omnipresent Cause, There is no Kinof o'er Thee. Thou art still the First and Last; Thou art Future, Present, Past, Builder of this Temple vast, — Father, we adore Thee." Sabbath bells are tollino-, tollinof: "Come and worship, come and pray." Ocean's mighty voice is rolling Solemn chants from far awa)'; Rills and brooks and birds are singing Nature's psalms and hymns and glees, And the morning breeze is swinCTino- Censers on the orchard trees. Little churches, little steeples, Little souls and little hearts, Little nations, little peoples, Actors playing little parts; After all we're very little. Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. *j.*5>.-»5<^^»5v»^^^-^»^'^*^*^ IN THE TEMPLE. ^^»4*-t«^-4*^<»^^-^ 69 In the Temple of Creation, Soaring to the speckless dome, Seek our souls their destination, Dreaming of a future home; 'Mongst the bright, the pure, the stainless, In the realms of bliss and mirth, Ah! our spirits are not chainless. The}' are fettered still to earth. Little tricks and little treasons, Little hates and little spites. Little months and little seasons. Little davs and little nic^hts. After all we're very little. Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. Soul and mind, and sense and feeling. Watch, upon the mountain's brow, Nature, in her prime, revealing All her vernal treasures now. From his throne, old Sol, the gilder, Greets us with a warm caress; Worshipping the Temple's Builder, We can feel our nothingness. ^O '^v'*^^>»^»j.^^^*5w»^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >?»«»^5*^^4»'^<*-^-^-^ Little sorrows, little troubles, Little griefs and little joys, Little castles, little bubbles. Little towers and little toys ; After all we're very little, Very little after all. In the Temple of Creation, Brothers, we are very small. AT VESPERS. Above the Temple's shrines, and altars bold, Night's silver lamp hung high with fullest face. And shed refulofent showers of borrowed o-old O'er vale and forest; and the russet hills Looked at their shadows in the placid bay. Upon whose breast rich beams of mellow light Fell softly down, and merry wavelets danced Upon the shafts that stretched themselves athwart The tranquil food. The laughing ripplets seemed (Whilst shimm'ring in the glory of the moon) Like breeze-stirred edo^es of a orilded tome; The brooklets, running clown the deep ravines. Sang merry carols with playful reeds. ,^.*^-^,»;>»^»j^#5.»5.*j^»5o#5^^^^ IN THE TEMPLE. .4*r4*4*-<»>?»^5»4»<^»^*r4*v5» j \ And zephyrs stirred the flax-leaves into tune! And up the gullies, from the cold white beach That stretched alono- the borders of the sea. The Ocean's organ with its deep-toned boom, Called up the wand'ring spirits of the main ; And all the breakers in their snowy robes — White-surpliced choristers — in solemn chant Burst forth into a chorus wild and Qfrand, In Nature's untranslated lanofuao;e old — The tongue in which God spake ere Moses heard His voice on Sinai's Mount — ere Abram's flocks Were spread on Moreh's plain — ere Noah dwelt Within the ark — ere Adam ate the fruit Of good and evil — ere old Nature hid Her secrets 'neath the deep Silurian seas — The tongue in which the words, "Let there be light," Burst on the startled Universe, and swept Ten thousand worlds across the boundless dome Of God's majestic Temple, there to shine Resplendent lamps for ever round His throne. THE OTHER SIDE. PffS we watch the deep grey shadows SteaHng upwards from the west, When the flow' rets in the meadows Lock their pearls and go to rest, Soaring far beyond the real, Oft we view^ on fancy's tide Phantom crews, in boats ideal, Sailino- from the other side. When the midnioht o-usts are sio-hing- Sighing through the saplings tall, Tapers dim, and embers dying, Paint weird shadows on the wall, Treasured forms start up before us. Softly through the room the}' glide, And we hear, in loving chorus, Voices from the other side. ♦?v.-.»s.»j.^*5^^»^^K»5^»J>»^ THE OTHER SIDE. ^<*4*>%*^^<*>^^t» /.) Who shall say, In vile derision, "There is nouoht but clod to clod?" Slavelines of a stunted vision, Ye cannot discover God. Fenced within your narrow hedges, Truth ye have not yet descried — Ye have no immortal pledges CominQf from the other side. .^^ ^1^^, REQUIESC AT. (August ith, 1880.) l' HE city nestles b)- the bay, Reposing in her Sabbath sleep ; The people dream of God, and pra}^ For 'tis the Spirit's special day, And peace lies over land and deep. The hills are flushing, fresh and bright, Beneath the sun of earl)- spring, The green turns yellow, pink, and white, And through the ferns, with new delight, The birds and brooklets gail)* sing. The silent, glassy sheet below Shows ever)- hill its face and form, i^^'V^'^vd.^^y^.;^^*^*^^^^*^^*^^^ REQUIESCAT. <*^^4»4»A»4»4»4»>^^»4» 75 And ocean, with its skirts of snow, Steals up the beach, and murmurs low A dream-song of the sleeping storm. Edina of the South! I stand, Entranced by harmonies that melt In euphony sublime and grand. And watch the sweep of sea and land That girds thee in a lovely belt. And as I eaze o'er land and sea My thoughts swell through the wide expanse; I map a future out for thee. Fair city, and thy great "To be" Lives in a swift prophetic glance. I see the stately vessels ride At anchor on the placid sheet Of land-locked waves; from far and wide Thev brino- across Pacific's tide The wealth of nations to thv feet. ^6 *?.#?v»5i.#j.>^>..^v^v»K MUSINGS IN MAORI LAND. -5*:^^*>^>^4*>«*^-^>«*4« Enriched with all the pride of Art I see thee in thy future dress; I hear from mansion and from mart The cheerful huni of progress start, As onward still thy children press. Again, I see thee in the hush Of Sabbath calm, and hear the swell Of Nature's psalms through tree and bush, From tui, blackbird, finch and thrush, And brooklet rippling down the dell. Thy glory is not yet, but still ' The seed of greatness here is sown; Thy beauties all my senses fill To rich repletion; on this hill I feel a king upon his throne. O, tranquil calm! exalting rest! The storm in season due shall rave, But yet 'tis wise to make the best Of sunbeams while they last; we're blest While peace keeps watch o'er passion's grave. »K'^^^»$.9^9K^^^#^*^'^^^^»^*^*^ REQUIESCAT. ^^^^4»^^^^<^'^^ "] J On days, like this, when buds have birth, Our souls instinctively arise From all the petty cares of earth, And on the air\- ^vings of mirth Soar Godward through the sapphire skies. A WINTER LYRIC. OME harp of mine And let's entwine y^jy A love-wreath round thy chords so light; The storm-sprites rave O'er vault and grave, The elements are drunk to-night; Behold the Lord's Red flamino; swords Flash scabbardless across the clouds, And from the deep The sea-ghosts leap Along the beach in snowy shrouds; Then sing with me A song of glee. My soul is filled with wildest mirth; 'Tis just the time To chant and chime The praise of our old Mother Earth. »^-^»j>»5v#j.»K^^v^.»^^=-^»^»5v»5^ A WINTER LYRIC. 4*4*4»4w^5*<*r4»^^>^^5* 79 Faithful harp, I feel th)' strings Trembling as m)' fingers play, And the wailins^ wind that sino;;s Through the crannies joins our lay; And methinks weird sprites on wings Hover round the house, and say : "Death alone affection brins^s — True love lives in clay to clay." Loving harp ! the truth is told. Mother Earth is true and tried, hi her bosom's faithful fold Slumber soundly, side by side, Peer and peasant, young and old. Slaves of poverty and pride. Ah ! her heart is true as gold, And her love is deep and wide. Harp of mine ! again, again Warm pulsations fondly stra)' O'er thy chords — whilst wind and rain 'Gainst the windows siuQ^ and sav: "Woman's heart is false and vain, Lovers' vows are light as spray, Faithless maid and foolish swain. True love lives in clay to clay." 8o ♦^■^■•5>*9.-»J.:^>>^^<^< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. . -5*^4*^4*4*; ^>5*>S* 5*-.^ Then sing with me, Right merrily, The praises of our Mother kind ; Her heart is pure, Her love is sure, To all our faults and follies blind. She gives us rest Upon her breast, And these poor mortal shells of ours She purifies, And we arise To live agrain in buds and flowers. Then sino" with me A song of glee, M}' soul is filled with wildest mirth; 'Tis just the time To chant and chime The praise of our old Mother Earth. ar \» -^ r\ sr)©Wer ©J no ©Iter) silver -Tallin®, deWn At) err) paid nness-clad precipice ej' pecl<;. THE WATERFALL Nichol's Creek. ^;^LOXG the wooded crlen to where the creek kd Brines down the mountain's music to the T .'4 O m plams, Wl^l^I come to hear a sermon and a song From Nature's tuneful throat, which ever tells God's livine truths to mortals who have ears To drink the sacred sounds. Above mv head Umbrageous plants in wild luxuriance grow On either side, and stretch across the gorge To tie the hills in leafy knots of love. Through folias^e thick, of varied-tinted crreen, Rich-feathered foresters, in wildest glee. Chirp, trill, and twitter. Ferns of every shade, 'Broider'd and scollop'd 'yond the power of art, In tens of thousands deck the rocky walls That hold the mountains back against the sky, 82 ^*>-^*^*^*^.=*^-P^^^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5*->^»-5v4^>5*>«»4*-^>^-«» And give the fluent stream an open course To brino- its sweetness to the lands below. And now, with admiration, I behold A shower of molten silver fallinof down An em'rald moss-clad precipice of rock, That stands a buttress to the central steep Where range links range in strong volcanic chain, Forged in the olden times; and as I gaze Up through the argent spray-mist and the leaves My spirit listens to the cascade's song: "Falling, falling, Streaminor, teemino', I am the child of the sun and the snow; Falling, falling, Ocean is calling, Rollinor alonof to its bosom I ofo. "A white virgin up on the hill- tops was dreaming, A golden-haired king saw the couch where she lay; Her heart melted soon when his bright eye w^as beaming'; She gave me to him, but I've wandered away. Gliding, hiding. Springing, singing, I am the child of the sun and the snow ; Falling, falling, Ocean is calhng. Rolling along to its bosom I go. ^^^*5.»^»?>.*?.*?^^^^»5^^^-^ THE WATERFALL. ^^4»4»^4»4»4»^^<^ 8 "I am the offspring of brightness and purity, Of chastity cold, and of passionate love; Whirling along to the depths of futurity, And bearine God's messaores down from above. Glancing, dancing. Sweeping, leaping, I am the child of the sun and the snow; Falling, falling, Ocean is calling. Rolling allong to its bosom I go. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. HREE half-score years ago, — no more, — Since Godle}' stood upon the shore, 'f^^^ A leader of the Pilgrims bold, Who framed the New upon the Old, And stamp'd the Old upon the New, 'Neath speckless skies of sunn}' blue. Three half-score years — and can this be? 'Tis but a ripple on the sea Of Time; — Oh! what a wondrous change, Since o'er the ridge of }-onder range Hope led the Pilgrims, firm and true, 'Neath speckless skies of sunn}' blue. They saw, from yonder mountain's brow. Plains yearning for the spade and plough; And where the naked rivers ran. »5.4^-*5^^*5=»5.*5^^*5v^THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. >«*^^«»-5*-<*4»>e* S^ Vales waiting to be dressed by man; Their help all Nature seemed to woo, 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. They gave the breeze that fann'd the foam Sweet farewell sis^hs to carr\- Home; — But though old Albion was dear, They saw a fairer England here Awaitinof them, the dauntless few, 'Neath speckless skies of sunn}' blue. Behold their work! Revere their names! Green pictures set in golden frames. Around the City of the Stream, Fulfil the Pilgrims' brightest dream; With them a fairer England grew 'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue. THE TIMARU WRECKS. (1S82.) HO are Earth's heroes ? Who are they that claim A shrine immortal in their country's breast, A niche within the citadel of fame, Or, higher still, a home among the blest ? One answers: "They are those who in the fio-ht Win heav'n's approval and the world's applause ; The men who die for justice and for right — The men who bleed for freedom's holy cause." Another answers: "Heroes lead the van Of Peace and Progress in the march of mind. And spread God's treasures at the feet of man, And shed the rays of knowledge o'er their kind." Ay, these and those are heroes, true and brave, Whose deeds and words are treasured fond and fast — .»jv»5^»5.#^.^.^^^»5>»^*5c»^-#^^^THE TIMARU WRECKS. -^>^<*-5*4*«*<^-^*4» 8/ Whose memories are untarnished by the grave; Heroes who build the future on the past, And raise a stately edifice above The Gulf of Ages, filled with blood and tears, A human temple round whose shrine of love xAll men shall gather in the coming )-ears. But there are other heroes on the earth — Heroes who often sow, but seldom reap The seed of glory till the Second Birth ; Heroes who often sink and fall asleep In duty's arms, unnoticed and unknown — Heroes who for their fellows nobly die. Heroes whose dirge is ocean's solemn moan. Mingled with orphan's sob and widow's sigh. Such are the heroes whom we honour here, Men who have passed on to the light beyond, And those they held in life most true and dear Appeal to us for aid — shall we respond? What were their deeds? We open up the scene — Behold a spreading city by the sea. Belted by sunny slopes and plains of green. And skirted by the foam of breakers free, That leap and dance for joy along the shore, Racine like white-haired children on the sand. Babbling their mother ocean's mystic lore, Whisp'ring her secrets to the silent land. A Sabbath calm is resting o'er the place, And souls are soaring upward from their clay; Celestial smiles gild Nature's tranquil face, 8S ^*^0^*^^^*^^t^^*^»^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >«*4»-«*-<*>5*4*<*4*-^4» And Thought flies far above Hfe's little day. Out on the sleeping waves tall vessels ride At anchor: all is calm. Ah! will it last? "Look yonder, look! here comes a storm-spent tide; The murmuring fury of the distant blast Sweeps in upon us. God! we're lost, we're lost! The boats! the boats! Now pull for land and life!" They're off! they're safe! they land! though billows tossed, And breakers dashed around them in the strife. But lo ! along the shore the cry is raised, "Man, man the life-boat!" — and a willing band Rush forward at the call. The crowd, amazed. Behold the sfallant fellows leave the land, And plunge through seething surf and furious foam. "Hurrah! hurrah! God speed ye, gallant hearts!" Ah! well might they exclaim, "God speed ye home!" God took them home: the tear of pity starts, But not for those who went, but those who weep For husbands vanished and for fathers gone; Be ours the task to honour them that sleep, By helping those they loved, now left alone; Be ours the task — nay, friends, 'tis not a task. It is a debt of duty we've to pay ; God speaks to us when babes and widows ask; We hear His voice in theirs, and we obey. 1h e JWaepis ir) cpoWds, With a yell -- ^^2^/^^-~ 0r)d Gi rush, Er)C©iT)peiss@d U5 M'GILLVIR AY'S DREAM. A FOREST-RAN'GER'S STORY. UST nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shoulders Since close to this spot we lay waiting the foe ; Ay, here is the mound where brave Percival moulders, And yonder's the place where poor Norman lies low; 'Twas only a skirmish — just eight of our number Were stretch'd on the sward when the fight- ing was done ; We scooped out their beds, and we left them to slumber, The bold-hearted fellows went down with the sun. The month was October — young Summer was peeping Through evergreen forests where Spring, still supreme, Spread all the rich tints that she had in her keeping m V QO ^^*5v'^*jv*5.^^»j>»5. MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^4»4!m4»^Ai#^i»5.^*K*J>»K M'GILLVIRAY'S DREAM, ^sv-^*^?*^-^*^*^*^*-^^*^^ 9 I I knew him for years, Jack, and shoulder to shoukler He stood by me often when swift leaden hail Whizzed close to our ears. Ah! old man, I was bolder In those valiant days than I'm now. To my tale: — The morning was gloomy, and Hugh sat beside me; We'd chumm'd in together for two years or more; I found him a brick, and he said when he tried me In front of the foe, "Bill, you're true to the core!" Enough, we were friends, and in trouble or danger We stuck by each other in camp and in fra}-. How often we find in the breast of a stranger The heart of a kind brother throbbing away With warmest affection, responsive and tender — Hugh's breast had a tenant like this, and I knew In him I'd a brother, a friend, a defender, Prepared for whatever a brave man might do. The morning was dark, and the outlook was dreary ; I noticed my comrade was sitting alone. All thoughtful, disconsolate, pallid, and weary, "Why, where has the gladness of yesterday flown? Come, tell me, Hugh, why you are gloomy this morning; What change has come over my light-hearted mate? You've not" — and I lauehed — "had a Banshee's death- warning ; Have Brownies or Goblins been sealing your fate?" g2 *^^i^^^9^^^^^^^^^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -^4»4*<»<,4»-«*.^>5»<» He turned his pale face, while his eyes, full of sorrow. Met mine, and it seemed like the gaze of the dead; I spoke once again: "Hugh, we'll meet them to-morrow, Fierce Rewi is coming this way." Then he said — "Why am I sad? Ah! comrade kind, We cannot tell why shadows fall Across the soul and o'er the mind; We cannot tell why dreams recall Old scenes endear'd by mem'ry's spell, Old haunts where love and sorrow met. Old spots where airy castles fell. And hope's young sun for ever set; We cannot tell why thought should leap Across the ocean's wide expanse. And through the telescope of sleep Review the dead years at a glance; We cannot tell But why should I Philosophize? We know we're here, And for the wherefore and the why, That problem suits the sage and seer. But not the soldier. Listen, mate — I'm not a coward, for I've stood Full face to face with death, and fate Has led me safe through scenes of blood; .^♦5<.^»^*j.»^»5.*5.*5.»j.^^*#K m'gillviray's dre am.-5»-5*:4*-5*^*^*^*^4»4* 9 3 But now m)- hour is drawing nigh, Life's battle now is nearly done, For me to-morrow's arching sky Shall canopy no rising sun." "Why, comrade, you but jest," I said; "You shouldn't joke with me, you know; To-morrow's sun shall shine o'erhead. And see us watching for the foe." "Nay, comrade, we must part to-day, A hand has beckon'd through the gloom. And signalled me away, awa)- To brighter realms beyond the tomb; You smile and count me as a slave Of superstition — be it so; My vision stretches o'er the grave; I travel where you cannot go. Ah! friend, you were not nursed beneath The Highland hills, where every glen Is filled with those who've conquer'd death - Is tenanted with Qrhosts of men. 94 ^'^^^•^^■^^•J^i^*?^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^/i!m'^iv4im:A»^<»<» 4!*.4»4» Ah! friend, your feet have never trod 7"he mio-htv Bens, whose summits o-rim Approach the starry gates of God, Where heaven o-rows brisfht and earth o-ets dim. The legendary lore that clings Round Highland hearts you have not felt. Nor yet the weird imaginings Which stir the spirit of the Celt, Well, hear my story — listen, pray, And I'll explain why I am sad And in a downcast mood to-day. You smile again and deem me mad, — Last night I was again a boy Light-hearted 'mong my native hills, Fill'd with a bright, ecstatic joy. And pure as my own mountain rills; I stood beneath old Monagh Leagh, ' Nor far from rugged Dumnaglass, And in the distance I could see Wild Farracaofh's romantic Pass ; A monarch proud, a youthful king. Alone with nature there I stood, At peace with God and everything. For all His works seemed fair and good; But best and fairest of them all Was she who came to meet me there, — I little thought dreams could recall Those silken waves of sunny hair, I The grey mountain. ^^♦^*s,^5^^5^^,,^.^;»5c»?v^,?vi»5^ M'GILL VIR AY'S DRE AM.'^'**^*^-^^?*^-^-^^^* 9 5 That tender smile, those eyes of blue, The magpie of whose flashinof alance Inflamed my soul with love, and threw A glamour round me; — ^joyous trance! We met last night just as of old, And Elsie nestled by my side, While playing with each tress of gold I whispered, 'Lassie, be my bride.' The sweet soft answer came — why dwell On that dear moment of delio-ht? Our heaven was in that Highland dell, Where all seemed beautiful and bright. We parted, and my dreaming soul On fancy's pinions forward flew O'er five short years, and reached the goal That love and hope had kept in view. Oh, joyous day ! a merry throng Were orathered on the Clachan ereen, The villagers, with dance and song. Held jubilee ; that happy scene Is treasured in my memory still. I hold again that little hand; I hear the whispered word, 'I will !' I lead her through that cheerful band, While Donald Beg,' and Fergus Mohr,^ And Angus Dhu' — the pipers three — 1 Little Donald. 2 Big Fergus. 3 Black Angus. g6 *5^-*5.^^»5v^^:^.^»^»K MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5w>5»^5».<»>^4*f4*'^4».^ Strike up, while marching- on before, The pibroch of M'Gillviray, Oh ! how the wild notes brouc^ht a flood Of mem'ries bright and glories gone, When, for the Royal Stuart blood, Our chief led Qrreat Clan Chatton' on To famed Culloden's field; — 'Tis past. That marriage scene w^ith all its charms; And winter comes with freezing blast, To find my young wife in my arms, And all the villagers in tears Assembled round us — she was gone; The prize was mine a few short years. And I was now alone, alone. Oh ! what had I to live for then ? One clasp, one look, one fond caress. And flying far from each proud Ben, With sorrow deep as dark Loch Ness, I left my humble Highland home, To oraze on MonaMi Leao-h no more. With bliohted heart I crossed the foam And landed on New Zealand's shore ; You know the rest " "But what has all cr o With death, my friend?" This home-sick dreaming got to do ' A M'Gillviray led the Clan Macintosh, or Clan Chatton, at Ciilloden. ^v»^»^^-^.»^^^.^-^.^,=^:^ M'GILLVIRAY'S DREAM.-^4*4*-^.^<»4*<*4*4*- 9 J "I've got a call To meet my Elsie." "Nonsense, Hugh!" I laughed, but still his brow was sad, "Cheer up and chase this gloom away, There's pleasure yet in life, my lad." "I tell you we must part to-day; I have not told you all that passed Before me in my dreaming hours. This day, with you, shall be my last. True friendship. Bill, has long been ours, And we must part in love, my friend, — You smile again — well, time will prove My premonition true; — The end Is drawing nigh. — Behold my love. My life, my Elsie, on yon hill, — Ay, yonder hill is Monagh Leagh — Just listen, friend, she's calling still. And still the dear one beckons me Away — the sun upon the peaks Is blushing crimson o'er the snow. Behold! how bright its rays and streaks Are dancing on Loch Ness below; Rich violet and purple clouds q8 ■^^'^^p^^*^^^-*^^^^*^ musings in MAORILAND. 4»4:^4»4»4»^^4»4My^ A tabernacle form on high. Behind whose folds the starry crowds Lie hidden in the silent sk)- — 'Tis there, 'tis there, the same fond face. Which, but a few short hours ago, Pressed close to mine; just in this place My Elsie stood, and, bending low, She whispered in an icy breath, 'Oh! Hugh, behold thy spirit-bride. I'm here for thee; prepare for death. Thy soul to-morrow, by my side. Shall trace the scenes we loved of yore. Again, my Hugh, my husband brave, We'll watch the Highland eagle soar; W^e'll see the heath and bracken waves. Ah! Hugh, the spirit sight is keen; We cross the ocean with a glance; We know not time ' She left the scene, And I awakened from my trance; But let us change the subject, mate; Let's have a smoke. — Hark! there's a shot — One, two, three, four! we mustn't wait — Where are our rifles.^ — Ah! we've pfot Hie darkies now. See, see, they dance Before our eyes; hear how they yell! There goes the order for advance — • There's Norman out and Percival." •^.♦5..»5v*jv^#^»^»^^»5>.^^K»j.»5.»5^M'GILLVIRAY'S DREAM. -5*r<*^5*^4»>5»<»>^*>^4* <^g M'Gillviray ceased, and we ran to the door, Prepared to advance where our officers led; Both Hill and O'Beirne were well to the fore, While Norman and Percival rushed on ahead. Flash! flash! went our rifles: we followed their track, And in through a gap in tlie timber we broke; We fired aeain, and thev answered us back — The rebels, I mean — as they plunged through the smoke. "Now back to the camp, lads; we've scattered the swine.; They've tasted enough of our metal to-day!" 'Twas Percival spoke, and we fell into line. And back through the break in the bush took our way. We reached but the centre, when out from the bush That skirted each side with its branches and logs The Maoris in crowds, with a yell and a rush, Encompassed us:^"Boys, give the treacherous dogs A taste of our true British pluck!" a wild cry, As a tomahawk's stroke cut the sentence in twain, Went in through the woodlands and up to the sky. And Percival lay in the front of the slain. Oh God! in my ears still rings yell after yell. I see the bright tomahawks dripping with blood; The wild demons looked as if painted in hell; They leaped through the thicket and burst from the wood. Outflanked and outnumbered, our officers dead, A handful of men in the grasp of the foe, W^hat could we have done in such stress? so we fled When Norman and Wheeler and Hill were laid low. We reached the old church, but the savages stay'd lOO ♦?v^^*s^^»?^-^<^v^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -<»4»-«»^^<» t*4*.4*r<»>^ To butcher the wounded and mangle the slain ; They vanished ere night in the forest's dark shade, To steer their canoes o'er Waikato ao-ain. At daybreak we went to the scene of the fray, To bury our comrades and bid them adieu, And near a small mound where five savages lay, We found brave M'Gillviray sleeping there too. Five warrior chiefs proved the work he had done; They fell by his hand ere his soul went to God; He smiled in the face of the brioht mornino- sun That shone on the purple streaks o'er the green sod. I planted a wattle to mark where he sleeps — I wonder where is it? — Ah, there stands the tree! By Jove, it's in blossom too! see how it weeps Rich tears of bright gold o'er the hillock where he Is resting in peace. Is he dreaming there still Of Elsie, his bride, and his dear Highland glen ? This life is a puzzle, Jack ; fight as we will, We're nothing at last but the shadows of men. The substance soon blends with the blossoms and weeds That spring to the surface ; and as for the soul, Perhaps it may flourish or fade in its deeds, Or find in some other bright planet its goal. i^ ANNIHILATION. ^^^•s^^ T is not true ! Great Sire, it cannot be That this bright ray of Hfe we call the soul — This quenchless flame of immortality, Emblazoned on Th)- grand eternal scroll — '- Was kindled in its mortal lamp by Thee, To find within the grave its final goal. Oh! bastard creed, conceived in vilest womb Of meanest earth, how poor thou makest man A livinof atom, fatteninof for the tomb, And struggling to its jaws as best he can. Heir unto nothing but chaotic gloom. The puppet of a dark, designless plan. Cold, dismal science, hatched within a clod, And nursed for blank futuritw in vain I02 =^'!^»5v*^v<^*^*Jv»5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^5*4»4«4*r4*-^4«^^^ Thy teachers, with their substitute for God, Proclaim that wrong shall change to right again. Why then are zue the tillers of the sod? Why do we sow if others reap the grain? How shall the good to come repay the dead, If mind or soul embodied, really dies To live no more ? The suff'ring millions fled, With all their sorrows and with all their cries For justice, find no solace in the bed Of dreamless death, from which they may not rise. Were death the climax, then 'twere better fate To browse the peaceful hills, a careless beast. Or nestle with some tuneful feathered mate In some green glade, nor look past Nature's feast For happiness, nor dream of future state, Than be their king — the greatest, yet the least. Shall all our dreamings of a brighter day — Shall all our longings for a purer light Shall all our aspirations end in clay? Shall all our hopes be plunged in endless night, And shall the soul be blind for ever? Nay! Death cannot veil its strong celestial sight. ^^-^•?^.»5v»s>:»?^^*^-»5^'^^-»5v*5v*J^^^>»5v ANNIHILATION, ^v-^^^-^^^-^-s^^* ^^•^^•^*^^»5^ WAIARONUI. '^^5»«*4*.5*-^-<*-.^-^,^ I QC Embalms the sunset treasures as they fall And melt upon the lake's clear bosom deep, When twilight's tints are stealing over all, And o'er the waters weird-like shadows creep; When all the changeful colours of the eve — Pink, violet, and purple — fade away, With crimson, gold and amber, but to leave The scene enwrapp'd in folds of sombre gre\'. Oh, lovely, lucid lake! how few who know The story that is thine! for few intrude Upon thy stillness; thy sad tale of woe Hath made thee now a sacred solitude. From Pakeha defiler thou art free — Thy nameless beauties he hath never known; The Maori's mana^ still is over thee: Sweet solitude, he claims thee as his own. But why shouldst thou be Tabu^^ why shouldst thou Hide all thy beauties, all thy splendid charms? Why should the Pakeha, with spade and plough, Not chano^e thv woodlands into smilino- farms .'^ Give up thy secret — say what strange romance Hangs over thee, Waiaronui? Ah! Methinks I see fierce braves, with spears, advance Unto thy peaceful shores from distant Pa. "Revenee! Revenue !" and "Blood!" these are their cries. 1 Sway. 2 Sacred. O 1 o6 '^^^'^^^^^■^•^v*^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -4»A»^i»A»4»^4»A^4m I know thy story now — a tale of grief — A narrative of sorrows and of sighs; 'Twas thus I heard it from an aged chief: A summer's nig-ht — the witchino- noon — The big, round, ripe, uncovered moon Displays her form in full; her light Streams down in showers of silver bright On lakes, and bays, and river floods, And brooks that wander through the woods; But brighter than on other streams She spreads to-night her silver beams On broad Waikato — famed in song — The nurse of heroes fierce and strong — The cradle of ten thousand braves, — Tawhaki,' guard thy swelling waves ! At least, to-night, Tawhaki, we Look up and pray for help from thee. To-nio;ht Waikato's waters bear A noble freight ; and who shall dare To stay Te Raupa's swift canoe? See! how he works his paddle true, 1 A powerful god. ^^-^^^^^^^^■^i^-*^-^-*^^^-*^^^*^^-*^ WAIARONUI. '«*4*4*4*-^-«»4»4*>^4*4*-^ 107 And toils as if it were a race For life. Behold ! he turns his face — His eagle eyes are gazing back As if some foe were on his track. What can his hurried o"lances bode ? Te Raupa has a precious load — Maroti's only daughter. See! She stands beside her warrior! he Has risked his life — impulsive youth — To prove his love ; his soul, in truth, Was wedded unto hers for )-ears. But, heedless of her sighs and tears. Her sire, Maroti, heartless stood — He hated all her lover's brood — And swore that if her brave came nio-h His whare, lovers both should die. But Love's fierce passion, warm and true. Will urge a man to dare and do Deeds which, in calmer times, would seem Impossible. Oh ! precious dream Of transient joy and nameless bliss. The ecstasy of one sweet kiss From lips we prize sets all aglow The god-sparks in our frames, and so The narrow self within us dies, And nobler inspirations rise! We live in those we love, and they Exist in us — ray blends with ra)' — Till one rich beam illumes two clods lOS ^^^'*^-*^-*^'*^*^*^'*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '<»4»^4»^<»^4»4»a^ With all the fire of all the gods. Te Raupa's love was quenchless; he Adored the fond Kearoa; she Look'd up to him, her heart's first lord — The god she worshipp'd and adored. Nay, Pakeha, turn not away hi scornful pity; do not say That love like hers was vile and vain, And worship such as hers profane. The gods her fathers bowed to sank In all that graces godhead's rank To nothingness when placed beside Her youthful chief — her joy and pride. He fear'd not danger, knew not fear; And, to secure a prize so dear, He scal'd her father's Pa, and caught His loved one in his arms, and brought Her safely o'er the fortress stakes Unnoticed; then, through swamps and brakes, They reached the river's edge, where lay His swift canoe, and then away The youthful lovers floated free Upon the river's breast ; and we Are watching their approach. They speed By slender rush and plumed reed, And now the noble warrior steers hito a wooded bend. ''What, tears, Kearoa? do not weep nor sigh; Our journey soon shall end, and I ^.^^♦5.»5..»^*5>»?>»^*^-»?.*^«^*5>»^ WAIARONUI. ^>5*=4»^^*>^^^*<»-5*^>«* 109 Shall eive to thee a home so fair That spirits up in Reinga' there Shall envy thee, my soul, my life, Rich blossom of my hope, sweet wife. All that I have, and all I hold, Shall there be thine; now let me fold Thy matchless form unto my heart, To kiss away the pearls that start From those deep, lustrous orbs of thine. There, there! I've dried them; do not pine; Thy father's love is cold compared To that within my breast. I've dared The terrors of his Pa for thee; Come, come, my own love, lean on me. Our swift canoe within this nook We'll leave, and then up yonder brook A little way a track there lies Well known to me; I'll bear my prize Alono- it till we reach a orlade Where echoes die and shadows fade ; From thence a lovely valley bends Its arm around the hills, and trends In graceful beauty to a lake. Where waves and woods their music make, Till leaves and ripples dance with glee To Nature's magic minstrelsy. I Heaven. I I O ♦x»K»J.^^^v»?v#?v»j< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. , -«*4»>5*4*4*-5*^4*>«*>* Prom thence 'tis but a little pace Unto the dwellings of my race; \A'ithin my father's Pa, my sweet, There thou shalt find a safe retreat; — So come, Kearoa." Then he raised Her shapely form ; she fondly gazed With tender glance upon her chief, For love had conquered fear and grief; And with a graceful spring the pair Leap'd on the velvet bank, and there They sealed again, with one more kiss. Their holy union. Love like this Deserves a future fair; but Fate Is cold and wayward oft, and hate — Cold heartless monster — often strives To cast a blio-ht on loving lives. But lo! the moon looks sad and pale Through boughs and branches down the vale; Kearoa and her chief have gone, And we are here, alone, alone. ♦^♦j.:»jv»5.=^»5>»>>3^»5-^^^^,^^^ WAIARONUI. ^^^^^^ft^-^^MT^Am^i*: I I I The shadows have vanished, the woods are awake With matin and carol, with lyric and lay; The bouehs and the branches and wild blossoms shake Their pearly perfumes on the lashes of day — Those fringes of gold that sweep down from the east To brush off the dew-beads. The hills are aglow With showers of sunbeams. Oh, glorious feast! The treasures of morning above and below i\re scattered profusely, and bountiful earth Displays all her charms, while her creatures rejoice; Calm Waiaronui, a morning of mirth Is rising o'er thee; — From thy shore floats a voice: — "Morning on the mountains, Brilliants on the fountains. Dazzling in the distance, sparkling in the sun, Dashing down the ledges. Leaping through the sedges, Scattering their diamond spray around them as they run. "See ! the lake is dreaming. While the rays are streaming, Dancino- on its bosom; love of mine, awake! Long hast thou been sleeping, Watch have I been keeping; Spirit of my spirit, rise, and look upon the lake!" 112 »5.^.-^-*5>.»5>»>»5-^»5v MUSINGS IX MAORILAND. >5*^4*4»^^^*>«*^5»>^>$*^<* 'Twas thus Te Raupa sang above The sleeping form of his dear love, Kearoa's strength had failed ere dawn, So, seeking out a sheltered lawn Beside the water's edge, he made A couch for her, and gently laid The lovely maiden there to rest, Her head reclininof on his breast. His father's Pa was still away Beyond the hills, where rose the day To orild Waiaronui's flood, Kearoa wakes. "Ah! kind and good. Hast thou been keeping watch o'er me ? I have been dreaming, love, of thee; And in my dream methought that I Heard mocking kakas wail and cry Above thy corse, and o'er thy bier; The hungry cormorants were near; And close by thee my father stood, His hands died purple in thy blood. Oh ! love, it was a fearful sight." Te Raupa laughed, "This childish fright Is but the outcome of a dream ; Come, smile, my sweet." A fierce wild scream Was heard amons: the bushes. "Save Thyself and me !" The startled brave ♦5..»5>»K-^v»^^K*»^«5^^^^^^v^>»5.»^ WAIARONUI. 4«^5«>«w4»4»^^^^5*4*>5»v=*4* I I 3 Sprang to his feet. "Too late, too late, Son of a treach'rous dog; thy fate Is in my hands, and thou shalt die. Stand where thou art — thou canst not fly, For see, my warriors are here, Surrounding thee with axe and spear." Te Raupa stood entrapped — no chance To 'scape, but one: his eagle glance Fell on the lake, upon whose bank The plumed reeds grew thick and rank. He whispered, "To my body cling, Kearoa." Then, with one wild spring, He leaped with her into the flood. The warriors in amazement stood A few short seconds, then they flew Along the banks, and madly threw Their vengeful spears into the waves Where sank the pair. The baffled braves, Athirst for blood, plunged headlong in; Kearoa's father and his kin Dived downwards, and swam round the spot Again and then again, but not Upon the lake a single trace Could there be found of form or face. Except their own; and all that day They searched, but searched in vain, and they Returned to tell the wondrous tale To all their people. Many a wail Of sorrow for Kearoa's fate p 114 ^■*^'*^*^*^*^'*>-'*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. 4»4»4»4»^A*4»Af^-^ Was heard for years, and even hate Paled into pit}' for the )outh Who nobly proved his love and truth For that sweet maiden. Stranger yet The sequel seems: — When night has set Her sable-silver lunar trace On calm Waiaronui's face, A swift canoe is seen to glide With sweep majestic o'er the tide; And in that strange and weird canoe Kearoa and her lover true Are seated. Kaka feathers red Bedeck the youthful hero's head; A heron's plume of snowy white — The bado-e and emblem of his riofht — Waves also o'er that noble brow; And warriors, when they see him, bow, And cry for great Tawhaki's aid. Kearoa, too, that queenly maid, Looks through the night with lustrous eyes That shame the planets in the skies; So bright are they, so full of fire. That crazers feel a strauQ^e desire To bask 'neath them upon the waves For ever as love's faithful slaves. But those who, when the moon is round, Have heard the weird melodious sound That floats across the lake at night. Become bewildered with delioht. The spirit-lovers' voices ring In strains sublime as thus they sing: "Hope is fair, Truth is rare — Souls united cannot sever; Hope may die, Truth may fly — Love lives on for ever. "Faith seems sure. Honour pure — Wedded souls are parted never; Faith may shake, Honour break — Love lives on for ever. "Friends may range, Friendships change, Heroes die in vain endeavour; Only love, Born above, Lives and moves for ever." YEARS ARE STEALING. EARS are stealing, years are stealing, Youth's bright star is on the wane ; Time, the mocker, is unveiling Hope, with all her trappings vain — Aerial towers, sylvan bowers, Coral cave, and golden plain; Blighted, faded are the flowers, The scythe is mowing down the grain. Years are stealing, years are stealing, We see not as we've seen before; Colder grows each finer feeling. Warm emotions start no more — Impulsive fire, proud desire. Impetuous as ocean's roar. The sable ship is drifting higher, Yonder lies the mystic shore. ^^^#-.-»^c^*^^»?.»^4^*?. YEARS ARE STEALING. ^^>^^^«»>^^^>^ I I J Years are stealing, years are stealing, You and I have gone astray, Since within the Old Home kneeling. We were fondly taught to pray: Pure words spoken, heartfelt token Of our homage to His sway. Graves were made and ties were broken \\\ the Old Land far away. Years are stealing, years are stealing, Where is fortune, where is fame? Where is friendship, soothing, healing? Where is love, ecstatic flame? Friendship's flying, love is dying. In the summer time they came; Winter through the trees is sighing. Love and friendship, scorn and shame. Years are stealing, years are stealing, See life's tinsel chariot glide ; Grasping avarice is wheeling Vanity and vulgar pride; False and shallow, time will swallow Rao's and riches in his tide: Millions went and we must follow— Prince or pauper may not 'bide. I 1 8 •5.»?.^v»->»?.'#?v.»5.^»5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. <*r4»4*^-^<*<*4»'4»^ Years are stealing-, years are stealing, Yonder mist is but a tear The brilliant eye of day concealing, Morn is there, and niijht is here, hi the morning, streaks adorning Heaven's grand refulgent sphere; Clouds at mid-day — solemn warning — Darker shades at night appear. THE BROOKLET IN THE GLEN. ^TS mellow soiiQf The whole iiiMit lono- Is borne around the tranquil vale, '"- And through the day ^..;^«*4*^%*^*4*<*4*4*-^ But in a voice subdued and low. Which tells of things beyond our ken, The brooklet's p^entle accents flow, Meandering down the glen. And as it flows It larofer Qrrows, Until it mero-es in the sea; And thus the boy From childish joy Runs into man's anxiety; The fairy towers we loved to raise, Are swallowed in life's whirlpool then- There's food for thought in all thy lays, Sweet brooklet in the o-len. .l©r)e witl~) jN€iTurc ©r) the WeedieGl l-)ill J l)at skirts ihfQ lovely vsllcy of the Lieitl) A CHRISTMAS REVERIE. ^Y soul is silent now; I cannot give A living impulse to the thoughts that fill My being with a plenitude of joy Too deep for utterance. Alone with God — Or Nature, if you will — I stand and strive To find expression for the love and praise That rise within me. eager to be freed From this poor clod that drags them down- wards still. 'Tis evenino^, and fair Summer softly rests On hill and valley, sprinkled with the tears That, but an hour ago, have fallen from A silver cloud that melted in a shower Of pearly beads, when warmly kissed to life By golden sunbeams ere they hid themselves Beneath the gorgeous canopy that fades Q 12 2 '^•5^*5<^»K^*?^*5>v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. A»4»4»4»4»4»4»4»4»4!if In rainbow coruscations in the west. Above the wooded slope that skirts the Leith I stand, and gaze around, and wonder why This earth of ours is called a "vale of tears." O, noble hills! O, lovely vales and swards! Robed in the richest foliage, and dressed In all the pride of many-tinted green; O, singing stream! O, flowers and blossoms rare! That breathe your lives away in odours sweet, And die in perfume when the summer wanes; — O, bri^ht-wine'd and sweet-throated choristers! Whose notes make all the leaflets in the woods Dance on each sportive breeze in pure delight; — O, beauties that I cannot name, but feel! My spirit at this moment fain would lose Itself among you all, and be at one With Nature, and with that mysterious Power Whose presence is proclaimed with double force At such a time in such a scene as this ; Our Father, and our Mother, and our All! W^e thank Thee for this lovely land of ours; We bow ourselves before Thee, yet we lift Our highest aspirations up to Thee; We feel that Thou art Om.nipresent here. For all the ecstasies and pure delights That spread themselves around are part of Thee ; And those with souls athirst can come and quaff The sweetness of such sacramental feasts As this, and hold communion with their God. ^^♦-.^^.•^-^•^.^^•K^^^^^A CHRISTMAS REVERIE.4»4*4^4*-4*^<*-5*^-s*- I 23 Alone with Nature on the wooded hill That skirts the lovely valley of the Leith; The voices of the brooklet and the rill, That purl and babble through the glen beneath; The feather' d exiles warbling through the heath Their old-world melodies; the tui's trill; The mystic whisp'rings of the leaves that shake With tremulous emotion to the breeze That fans them into music on the trees; The mournful murmur of the waves which break hi silver flakes along the distant strand; And all the harmonies of sea and land Blend in a elorious concert, and I stand Entranced with joy — asleep, and yet awake. A sighino- sea Q-ust from the ocean brouo-ht Forofotten Christmas memories alonQf-; My list'ning spirit, wrapped in wonder, caught The soft, sweet echo of a dear old song; And soaring skywards on the wings of thought, It chased the wandering melod)- that sought To find its own sweet biding place among The sacred sounds that live where angels throng. Music's heart, with wild pulsation, Throbb'd amontr the tremblinq- stars, 124 *^**^*^*^*^*^^»^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. 4»r^^»:^*-^4*<*-^>^-^ Shakino', with divine vibration. Thunder-bolts and horhtninof bars; Op'ning up the azure portals, Till the echo of my lay, 'Scaping with the bright Immortals, Died in euphony away; Where converging melodies, Silver notes from golden keys, Melt, with souQi's of sio-hinof seas, In a flood of joy supreme. Still the spirit of my dream, Drunk with splendours pure and brio-ht, Dazzled with supernal light. Strong in all its new existence, 'Franchised from its earthly clod, Saw the glory in the distance; Onward soarino^ with the fire Of a longing swift desire To examine and inquire, W^y and who and what is God? "And why and who and what art thou That durst approach the High Unknown? Poor naked soul, be dumb and bow Before the great eternal throne. Be dumb and bow, for God transcends The highest stretch of human thought; *^^^~^.»5>,■♦5.^^■»^•J>,»^^^.»5.^.^•^A CHRISTMAS REVERIE. <*'^^*^^^^^*<*^'^'5* I 25 He orders all for noble ends; His works are all with wisdom fraught. Enough for thee that thou hadst birth; Enough for thee He sent a Man To purify and bless the earth — That speck upon His wondrous plan ; — Enough for thee, there lived and died, To make men noble, true and free, A thorn-crowned King in Galilee, The living God personified. The Champion who conquered hell. Descend into thy coat of clay; Go back into thy carnal shell; Make merry on His Natal day — This knowledge is enough for thee." The voice came from the awful heieht Where time becomes eternity; My soul, though dazzled with the light. Gazed boldly up, and cried, "Ah! why Did God send Jesus down to die A felon's death on Calvary? The sacrifice was made in vain, For wrong still triumphs over right, And pleasure still succumbs to pain, And day is shadowed by the night. 126 ■*^»^*^*^^^'*^'p>^9>< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^^^^^r^^^r^^^^^r^^--^-^*-^ And Sin, the tyrant, is not slain, And Justice staggers in the fight. Oh, Father! come Thyself and reign. xA.re we not 'precious in Thy sight'? Sin, sorrow, suff'ring, greed and lust Enthral Thy creatures.. Oh, unbind The parts of Thy Eternal Mind, Called human souls, for Thou art just And we are struggling through the dust hi search of Thee. Ah ! we are blind. Yea, blind; the wisest and the best. The pioneers w^ho boldly march In front, ahead of all the rest. With Reasons torch to light the arch, Must halt and tremble in the race. Amazed in wonderment and awe, Yet bowing to Thy will and law. Whilst weeping for the human race. Ay, weeping as our Christ hath wept Of yore in sad Gethsemane, When Justice, Truth, and Reason slept, And men refused to hear and see The Word hicarnate, that should be The Law below, the Light above, The Talisman of angels — Love." "Away, away," the voice replied, "Tliou art not worth)- to be known v^^^v-^>»j.^^..^»^»^.»^.^.^.»^A CHRISTMAS REVERIE.^5*-^^-^^*r4*4*>^^*^4*r 12/ In our bright realms; thy puny pride Would make God live for Earth alone. Enough for thee that Christ hath died, Yet lives and moves, evolving still The God-force that remains in man ; He is and was, since time began, The Good that triumphs over ill — The Royal Keystone of the span That bridges the Eternal \\ ill. His reign shall be made manifest When words are fashion'd into deeds; And all your petty jarring creeds Shall merofe in 'one harmonious whole;' When each and every human soul Has reached the standard of His test; When Justice shall assert its might. And every wrong shall blend in right." Mv dream w^as ended. And I stood Alone among the white-tipp'd broom, iXnd down the vale the evening's gloom Came floatino: on a dyino- flood Of sunset glories, and the boom Of ocean followed from afar With music solemn, sad, and strange, And night crept o'er the rugged range. I 2 S *s>.'^*^»?^-»^*^'^-*5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5*-4*-4v4*-4*'4v-^4*-<*'4* And mellow'd down each ofolden bar Of blazinof ororse that ribb'd the ereen ; I turned and left the evenino- star To sentinel the lovely scene. ^-^ .^^^M^ idfYcy^ ji^^^^r^r prirr)r©s@s Were ©penin^ up r)eir pe'tals on tl^e iT)eads, yAr)a ©ffeviVjQ t© "1"r)C sun's first ray I neir dewy crystal heads. ONLY A MISERABLE WRETCH. /HEY took me from the loathsome deii, And marched me down the street; My heart was nearly bursting then, As Vainst m\- side it beat. Contemptuous glances followed me, And some one near me said, "Only a miserable wretch Unto the court-house led". "Only a miserable wretch!" — I hung my head in shame; Oh, they that bring the curse on us Are always first to blame. The heartless words rang through my brain With quick and sharp report; R I 30 *5>»5v»5<#5k^»5.-^*?v musings in MAORILAND. ^4:5* ^^-^^-^^v-^^^^*;^ And. as I mused and wondered, thus I spake Unto the prattling breakers 'neath my feet (Those playful white-haired children of the sea That bear their mother's messages to land): "Why is it thus, that Man, the prince of all This prospect grand, cannot discern the Cause?" And they went out and asked their mother sage. And brought back this reply: "God only knows." Then turning from the Ocean's face, I gazed Along the giant hills that proudly raised Their weather-beaten brows above the bay Which mirror'd all their forms upon its breast. And as my eye swept o'er the verdant meads And tall young saplings belting peaceful homes, I thanked my Maker for His gracious gifts To our New Land; and as my gaze fell down Upon the fair white city that reposed In Sabbath quietness, within the vale. Again I thanked my God for all His gifts; But, musing still, I said: "Ay, even there, In that calm city, there are weary hearts And wounded spirits crushed b)' worldh' cares, And sad ones praying for the call of death. That they might leave their sufferings behind And go to sleep in peace upon yon hill Where those pale monuments as emblems stand Of human nothingness! Why is it thus?" mi^^^^^^v^-:^^^^^^^.0^^^-9^^*$^ OCEAN'S ANSWER. ■<*4»4*^<»-^-«*4*4*4*-«»-^ I 35 Again the breakers to their mother went And brought this answer back: "God only knows," ''Old Ocean!" I exclaimed, "thou should'st have known The key to this great problem; thou wert b)- Creation's cradle with th\' mellow sones. When Man, in pristine majesty, surveyed The grand estate bequeathed to him by God. Oh, tell me wh)- there's so much sorrow^ here Upon this earth, that is itself so fair; Oh, tell me wh\- the cruel waves of war Have swept the millions down its crimson tide; Oh. tell me wh)- the many have been crushed Beneath oppression's heel in ages past; Oh, tell me why have Discord's hends been loosed From lowest hell, to spread the poisoned flames Of violence and hatred amongst men; Oh, tell me why have famine and disease Scourged God's poor creatures? Shall it ever end.'^ When, when shall He, who rules omnipotent, Take off the curse which still hangs o'er the earth. And in its stead spread joy serene around? W^hen, when shall He make all His purpose known? Our knowledge yet is weak. Why is it thus?" Again the breakers to their mother went. And brought back this reply: "God only knows." WOMAN'S RIGHTS. 'OME people think that women should Compete in life's swift race With man, and gain each privilege, Position, power, and place Which he enjoys. I can't agree With those progressive lights, ^i|; I'll tell you what appear to me To be fair Woman's rights. When passion's young ecstatic fire First kindles in our veins, 'Tis woman's right to bind our hearts In Cupid's rosy chains; She wields a queenl)- sceptre then. Which we must needs obey, We're building castles in the night And dreaming all the day. ♦5^^»^»=^^-#^^»5^*^^j>:»x-»?>-^X'»?v, WOMAN'S RIGHTS. ^5v<*4*^>^-5*-^<*^-<*.4* 137 'Tis woman's right to be caressed When love is in the spring, And when affection's harvest comes, Her rio'ht it is to brine The garnered fruits of happiness To cheer man's drear)' way, To smooth his rougher nature, And refine his coarser clay. 'Tis woman's right to wean us from Our selfishness and greed, A counsellor in trouble and A faithful friend in need, 'Tis woman's right to lead us from The foot of Mammon's throne, And take us to a nobler shrine Where purer joys are known. 'Tis woman's sacred riQ^ht — and this To her by God is given — To teach the lisping little ones The password into Heaven, No joy man knows on earth can with A mother's bliss compare When, listening with the angel choir, She hears her child's first pra)-er. 138 '^^s^^^^^".-^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. .^4*^^^4»4*^4*>«» 'Tis woman's right to lean on man In sorrow and distress, For he was made to comfort her, And she was made to bless; Her bulwark against danger, be She daughter, sister, wife. Or mother, he should guard her well — Aye, even with his life. 'Tis woman's right, ere we prepare To battle in life's van. To shape our future destinies And mould the mind of man; And here, where we're erecting on Pacific's breast, a State, The mothers of our rising race Can make it poor or great. SPIRIT OF SONG. HERE is thy dwelling-place? Echo of sweetness, Seraph of tenderness, where is thy home? Angel of happiness, herald of fleetness, Thou hast the key of the star-blazon'd dome, Where la)^s that never end Up to God's throne ascend, And our fond heart-wishes lovingly throng, Soarinof with thee above, Bearer of truth and love, Teacher of heaven's tongue — Spirit of Song. Euphony, born in the realms of the tearless, Mingling thy notes with the voices of Earth; Wanting thee, all would be dreary and cheerless, Weaver of harmony, giver of mirth. 1 40 *?v»*.-*K-^»5>»^»K^. MUSINGS IN MAORIIvAND. 4:fA»4»^'^4»4:m:.^^i^*?v»5v»5^.^-^K MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >«»^>^-5»-^>5*<*4*-^-<« We hear the deep bell booming where the ancient tower is loominof hi the distance by the death-yard, where the tired ones find rest — "Rejoice, rejoice, ye people," rings from belfry and from steeple ; "Rejoice," reply the Seraphs as they sing among the blest. An angel yestereven came as harbinger from Heaven, To spread the cheerful tidings of the Peaceful Prince's birth; And loud hosannas pealing, from the star bespangled ceiling, Of the bright etherial canopy, were trumpeted o'er earth. What welcomings and greetings! What banqiietings and meetino^s ! A social chain of lovino; hearts is linked around the board. Ah ! now 'tis reft and broken, of each link there's scarce a token; But dreams recall the treasure still, and mem'ry guards the hoard. Old Father Christmas, never can time or distance sever The bonds of true affection which connect us still with thee; Some bosoms may wax colder as the world is growing older, But ever in this breast of mine thy name shall honour'd be. ^^■P9^*^-*^*^'!*^^*^*^*><*^^^^*^ CHRISTMAS MEMORIES. ^5*^5*^^*^^<*^<*<*^^^^^ 1 43 Dear time of fond devotion! in the Isles beyond the Ocean, When childhood's days were pure and white as snowdrops by a stream, Thy very name was golden, and now thy mem'ries olden Steal round us in the new lands, and we smile and sigh, and dream. A PAPER FROM HOME. He ^f LONE with his doo-, when the nisfht-veil was falHng, A digger sat dreaming of times that were fled. For mem'ry was painting old scenes, and re-calhng Dear faces and forms from the realms of the dead. His fancy renewed the old pictures long faded, The sheet in his hand seemed a leaf from life's tome, Its paragraphs bright, and its articles shaded — smiled and he sighed o'er that paper from home. A light-hearted boy, he embraced the old people — He rushed from the school with his mates to the green; rH e S€tt XT) Iqe aell \A^}~)(2r® tqe liletc Was svvin^iiOQ'; Pjis ir)rusr) cirjgl irqe ©l(acl'^©:r^ Were warbling €i©©ve. .*^^5v^^<^^^-^>.^^,-^^^>,^.::^v,*^*ji^A PAPER FROM HOME.'^-<*-^-^'^'^-^«*^-^'^I45 He climbed up the ivy that wrapp'd the church steeple Which stood on the hill to watch over the scene. He blew from his childish pipe fanciful bubbles; He floated his reed on the rivulet's foam; The mountain of hope hid the ocean of troubles, And fairies danced over that paper from home. He sat in the dell where the lilac was swinging; The thrush and the blackbird were warbling above; A raven-haired girl to his bosom was clinging; Their eves exchanged drauQ-hts from the fountains of love — Ah! where is the fond one who used to adore him? A black cloud crept o'er the ethereal dome, A crystal pearl dropped on the journal before him, And down on the ground fell the paper from home. " — ^J ~ ST. PATRICK AND THE SHAMROCK. k^'^^-'^^^N Tara met the kinofs and chiefs of ancient Innisfail, And Pagan priests were lighting up the sacred ■^ (, ijdyv- ■<■ fi^^s c»f Baal, iWi hfT5,'>Fi®' '^' '"'^ And in the Royal Council hall were bards and Druids sage, Whilst ^"outhful clansmen orathered round to hear the words of age. When lo ! a bearded stranger, with a cross and staff in hand. Approached the chiefs and rulers, and before them took his stand. Majestic was his figure, yet he bore no axe nor skean. For Patrick was a soldier of the peaceful Nazarene. ♦K)^-*»5>*K'»5v»?v.i^»K ST. PATRICK AND THE SHAMROCK. ^<*^<^^<*-<* I 47 With glowing zeal he preached to them of Christ the crucified ; He told them how for fallen man the Saviour lived and died ; He pictured the unshelfish love which Jesus bore our race, Until the tears of pity rushed down many a rugged face. But when he preached of one great God, in which are persons three, They wondered and they doubted, and they asked how that could be ; So stooping down, St. Patrick plucked a shamrock from the sod. And, pointing to its triple leaves, thus spake to them of God— "The stalk and centre leaf 's the Sire, the left one is the Son, The rieht one is the Holv Ghost, and vet the three are 9f one. Converted and convinced by him, his hearers were baptized, And this is why the Shamrock still by Irishmen is prized. THE WINDS. ,j HO has not heard the sighing. And the moaning, and the crying, As of troubled spirits flying Through the winds, through the winds, On some dreary winter's night, When the cat-eyed owl, in fright, From its hiding place takes flight, Through the winds, through the winds? And the curlews scream aloud, And each quaintly fashioned cloud, Is swept o'er Earth's gloomy shroud By the winds, by the winds; Oh, there's something sad yet sweet about those winds. For they carry us back on Fancy's track, O'er the deep, dark ocean's foam; ^.»5<-#5^=»5v»^-*5v^»?>»5^*^»?>»^*5>.*?v^>, THE WINDS. ^5*4*<*^»^5«4*>%*<'*4*^-^-^ 1 49 And we mingle again with the loving train, In our childhood's happy home; Each fond kind face, in the dear old place, Smiles on us as of yore, And we hear the wail of the blast and the hail About and against the door ; And the wild gusts screech through the elm and beech. Till the leaves seem living things ; Through each cranny and nook, and by streamlet and brook. Old Boreas whistles and sinofs; But we heed not the storm, for our home is warm. And the friends we prize most are near. They're entwined round our heart: Ah! why must we part From the dear ones we value most dear? ^^ir But they're gone, ay, gone before us, Down life's river to death's shore. Thus We must go, and o'er us The sad winds! the sad winds! Will chant wild songs for ages, When savage winter rages, "Death is all mortals' wages," Sing the winds, sing the winds. I ^o ^v,*5^^^<»^.»x»5v*5v»jv MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -«»4v4w4»^5*r4»4»^-«w>^ Ah! where's the great men's glory, The brave, the wise, the hoary, Go listen to their story From the winds, from the winds. Oh, a lesson we can learn from those winds. THE VILEST FIEND OF ALL "Oh, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil." — Othello. ALSE Spirit! take thy fiendish shape, Thy name is demon, and not wine ; 1^. Durst thou ding to the purple grape, Durst thou seek sheher 'neath the vine ? * Nay, cHng unto thy patron — Death. And hide thee 'neath his blackest pall: Throughout Creation's length and breadth, Thou art the vilest fiend of all. What are thy crimes? Go, ask the grave. That, yawning, waits its lifeless clod — Thy murdered serf thy poisoned slave, A type, once, of the living God ; I r 2 .•?v»5.*5.-»K»5^^^-^-*K MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^^^4»4»^im^y^4»4»^^<» The shrieks within the maniac's cell, The chain clinks 'yond the prison's wall, The wails and groans of millions, tell Thou art the vilest fiend of all. What are thy crimes? Yon soulless thing Was once God's image, pure and fair; Yea, fiend, as witnesses I'll bring, Lust, hatred, murder, and despair, To prove thy guilt! The fiercest flame That burns below when sinners fall, Is fed by thee, remorse and shame Proclaim thee, vilest fiend of all. What are thy crimes ? Thy counsel's plea Is this: Thou'rt good, and we should prize Heaven's gifts ; but I do view in thee A cruel devil in disguise; Before thee, peace and comfort fly, Replaced by senseless feud and brawl ; Near thee, truth, love, and honour die — Thou art the vilest fiend of all. Oh, God of justice ! God of right ! Why is the world so full of woe. •^•^♦K»^,5,^#5v.»^.:^-#5. THE VILEST FIEND OF ALL. ^^4»4»4»^^4»4» 153 Why are souls withered by this blight? Is this the working of Thy foe — The rebel sire of sin and crime, Who makes thy likeness, man, his thrall? Oh, Father! shield our new-born clime From this, the vilest fiend of all. u DREAM ON. !^!REAM on, dream on, and build your mao^ic .[ towers, Climb to Elysium, on the mellow beams #^AVhich bind the heav'ns unto this orb of ours, When threads of o^old fall down in dazzlinof streams, To tie the Sun to Earth with knots of flowers, When nature's breast with vernal treasure teems. Dream on, dream on, and build your castles airy, Float with the seraphs upon floods of light — Imagination is a witching fairy Whom angels send with glimpses warm and bright Of scenes to come, when this strange life shall vary. And we shall see ourselves with fuller sight. Dream on, dream on, in happy exaltation. 'Tis but the spirit rising o'er its clay To scan the grander pictures of creation. Hung in the light of never-ending day, Where man receives his highest education, Where love, and truth, and peace for ever stay. THE OPPOSITE SEAT. TRIED to look prim while the parson was preaching, And you were pretending to be so demure; I knew you were deaf to the truths he was teaching, And I was quite blind to the Gospel, I'm sure. I brought neither chapter nor verse from the meeting. Although I told me 'twas a beautiful treat; I know I'm a sinner, for Heav'n I was cheating. My soul was engaged on the opposite seat. I scarcely can see either pulpit or altar, I can't read my Bible, my eyes are so dim; And really whenever I take up my psalter, Instead of a psalm I look out for a him. ^^c^^^.#5>»5^^^^^»^»?.-^v. THE OPPOSITE SEAT. >^<*<»^*r^*^>5*>5*<* I 57 Our minister's lessons are pure and ai;sthetic, At least so I'm told! Oh, this horrid deceit! I wish I could 'scape from that current magnetic That carries m)- thoughts to the opposite seat. When people around us are wrapt in devotion, I strive to be pious and serious too; And, raising my feelings with holy emotion, I try to forget such a fellow as you; But when I look up I destroy the illusion, For you raise your head and our wicked eyes meet. And then I am covered with shame and confusion — The tempter's enthroned on the opposite seat. I'm eager to work out m)- spirit's salvation. But really each Sabbath I have not a chance; Oh! you are the cause of this vile desecration, For sin and iniquity dwell in your glance. I often endeavour to think upon Zion, Where angels, the prophets and patriarchs greet In vain — for I know that poor me you've your e)'e on. Oh, why do you sit on the opposite seat? You know very well that your conduct is stupid. Whatever may happen, 'tis you that's to blame, I 58 ♦^»^-»^^»^»^»5k»^-^^ musings in MAORILAND. '^<»4»4»4»^4m:'^4:^4» You're turning the church to a Temple of Cupid, I'm sure you will drive me to alter my name. Pray, do not persist in this vile persecution, Our souls must be saved, and Old Time is so fleet, I feel quite composed — oh, this rash resolution! There's room for us both on the opposite seat. AWAY WITH REGRET. TO W. E. V^(|\Vi\Y with regret! though some words Hghtly */^{;f Spoken \4 Were echoes of hopes which we cannot recall ; The lily will bloom, though a petal be broken; The rose does not droop, though a leaflet ma)- fall; The sun that illumined love's dreamings' ideal. At eve, 'neath a shroud of despair may have set, But morning will bring him in majesty real, To melt with his rays all the clouds of regret. Away with regret, and away with dejection ! Though withered are some of the young buds of love, Bright flow'rets of far more enduring affection Will blossom when Spring brings new^ notes to the dove; l60 ♦K^v'»5c^c^<^K*^'»9< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. v;*'?*^^*-?*^.^^*-^-?*-^* The seedlings we cast on a cold soil may perish ; We lose them, but still it is foolish to fret. The next time we sow, let fertility cherish The hearts-ease w'e prize — then away with regret! Away with regret! when the heart lies in fallow, 'Tis but a coarse weed that spreads over the ground; It only takes root where the surface is shallow, And dies when the summer of love comes around. 'Tis vain to look back, for the past we can't alter; The future remains in our own keeping yet; Hope's goal is before us, and why should we falter.-^ We're marching to God — then away with regret! LigQ ©r) by Rcwi /norjgta irhe jeeirle ss. O R A K A U/ r^ (^^^^^^(^^f^c^ ^^ Ij'^' HREE hundred swarthy braves at Orakau — Savaofe warriors from Uriwera, ^7% And from the hills and gorges of Taupo — Gathered together to defend the land From the encroachments of the Pakeha. The Ngatimaniapoto were there, Led on b)- Rewi Manga the fearless; Te Paerata, famed in many tights, Commanded the No-atiraukawa tribe. He was the warrior who cried aloud — ''Afe mate au kikoneir — which means, "Let us make the Pa here; let us die here!" I Orakau is situated in the Waikato District, near Kihikihi. The battle was fought on the 31st INIarch, 1st and 2nd April, 1S64. The Imperial and Colonial troops numbered 1,700, and were under the command of Brigadier-General Carey. The Maoris numbered 300, including women and children. X 1 62 »^*?^»?^»5v*5v^>:^^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^»^^4»^»4»^^^^^ The dauntless chief Te Whenuanui, And Hapurona of Uriwera, Headed their wild and savao-e warriors. Te Warn was there with his East Coast braves, And other chiefs famed in song and story, Met on the spot to resist the spoilers Who had taken the land from the Maori In the name of the Queen of the far land. Only three hundred warriors were there Entrenched within the weak, unfinished Pa, Only three hundred brave men and women To meet the Pakeha who surrounded The sod-built fortress, with his well-drilled troops, Nearly two thousand hardy Britons — The Royal Irish and Forest Rangers, And Fortieth Fighters under LesHe. It was the second morning of April When the colours in Nature's dress were chano-ino;- From the brown and russet hues of autumn To the dark and sadder shades of winter. Three hundred lion-hearted warriors Assembled with Rewi to fan the flame Of deadly hatred to the Pakeha Into a vengeful blaze at Orakau, Chanting the deeds of their ancestors, They cried aloud — "J/^ jna^e te tangata, Me mate vio te 7uhejiua!" — which means, "The warrior's death is to die for the land!" Roaring for blood, our early gun Rent the clouds like a thunder-clap; Carey cried, "There's work to be done"- Close to the walls we pushed the sap. "Ready, lads, with your hand-grenades, Ready, lads, with your rifles true; Ready, lads, with your trusty blades. Ready, lads, with your ba}-onets, too." "Now for the Armstronofs, let them roar: Death unto those that laugh at peace — " Into their nest our volleys pour — "Steady there! — let the firing cease." 'Tis Cameron's voice — ''Tell the foe To leave the Pa, their lives we'll spare, Tell them, Britons can mercy show, Nothing but death awaits them there." Then Major Mair, with flag of truce before the Maoris stood, And said. "O friends, be warned in time, we do not seek your blood. 1 64 ^v^*?v»?c.»5.»x«5.*5v»?v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. 4*'<*^4*'4*>^4*4»-^»^<*r<*' Surrender, and your lives are safe." Then through the whole redoubt The swarthy rebels answered, with a fierce, defiant shout, ''Ka Whaivhai tomi! Ake! Ake! Akef Again spake gallant Mair — "O friends, you wish for blood and strife, With blind and stubborn bravery, preferring death to life; But send your women and )our children forth, they shall be free." They answered back, "Our women brave will fight as well as we: '^Ka Whawhai tonu! Ake! Ake! Ake!'' Uprose brave Ahumai then, a chieftainess, and said: "O! what have we to live for, if our dearest ones be dead? If fathers, husbands, brothers, too, as mangled corses lie, Why should vve stay behind them here.'^ — beside them let us die! ''Ka Whawhai tonu! Ake! Ake! Ake!" Again the fiery-throated cannon roared aloud for blood, Again the hungr}' eagle swooped and shrieked for human food ; I We will fight for ever, and ever, and ever. *^«^9^^#^^«^»^^»$^^o^c^v*»^^<^!.»K-«K ORAKAU. ^&r^*->5*r4*^4*r4*x5».x5».y^4^<»4»-4* 165 Again wild spirits soaring, saw their shattered shells beneath, In pools of gore, and still was heard defiance to the death — ''Ka Whaiuhai toim! Ake! Ake! Ake!" Now, now the bold defenders in a solid body break Right through the sod-built barricade, o'er palisade and stake, And leaping o'er the trenches, 'mid a storm of shot and shell. They rushed to liberty or death, still shouting as they fell — ''Ka Whaiuhai toim! Ake! Ake! Ake!'' With wild, untutored chivalry the rebels scorn'd disgrace. — Oh, never in the annals of the most heroic race Was bravery recorded more noble or more high, Than that displayed at Orakau in Rewi's fierce reply — ''Ka Whawhai tonu! Ake! Ake! Ake!'' SLEEPING ALONE. LEEPING alone in the wild, wild bush, Where the wattles stoop, And their ringlets droop, \ When Spring glides in with her healthy flush, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone in the quiet glade, Where the timid sheep From the red sun creep To hang- their heads in the leaf)- shade, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone where the parrots fly, To pipe their lays On the sultry days — When hot winds sweep o'er the mountains high, Sleeping alone. »^^^^'»K^v»^'^v»Jv»5^»?.*5>=#^»5^^5^ SLEEPING ALONE. ^*^^-'5*^5*^5*4»-^-^-<*4*r-«*- I 6/ Sleeping alone where the Morepork's call At night is heard With echoes weird, When Luna peeps through the gum-trees tall, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone 'neath the unfenced mound, No kindred bones Xor mem'ry stones, hi Nature's lonely burying-ground, Sleeping alone. Sleeping alone where but few have trod, Till the last bell tolls And the unjudged souls Bring up their cla)- to the throne of God, Sleeping alone. AUSTRALIA. ^"i^j^^ir AND of thS speckless sky and broad red sun, Thou gavest me the largest part of life, And I shall love thee till that life has run Into the mystic vale of rest, where strife And sorrow cease. Prize of the stalwart Islemen of the North, Picked out of Freedom's body-guard for thee, To summon thy prolific treasures forth, They brought with them the charter of the free, Their endless lease. No crimson blood-spot stains thy tranquil face. Illumined by the day-god's richest glance, Adopted mother of a manly race, Oh may thy power still prosper and advance, Thy wealth increase. Fame, in her miohty volume of the past, For thee. New Mother, keeps no gory leaf, Oh, never may war's black, despoiling blast Soil thy bright banner of the yellow sheaf And golden fleece. As Freedom's outposts on Pacific's breast Thy smaller sisters stand around thy throne; Each wears a queenly diadem and crest. But thou art Empress of the South alone — Reign on in peace. THE BEGGAR'S PRAYER. A DIGGER'S TALE. It W^ t^' l^,3x~- '][ J ^ ^^n yQ^j |-^Q^ jj happened, mate : we worked > in wet and cold ^' The winter throngh, until at last we struck upon ' the o-old; jfrHl^''^^'^ Though Charley had a woman's frame, it held a lion's heart, ^ And day by day, in shaft and drive, he nobly did % his part. Ill I was his mate before the rush to Gabriel's began, I loved him, for I knew him to be every inch a man; Ah ! times are changed, and people now are not what they were then, The boys who wore the yellow pants in those old days were me^i. .»5s»j^»5>;^»^>»5v.^^-»5v^^^^^»^ THE BEGGAR'S PRAYER. >5*<*>5*4*>^4*'4*^^^«* I 7 I The Bible tells us, as you kuow, we all are made from dust, And to the same material, return again we must; But still I can't believe tliat all are moulded the same way, For Charley was a bj'ick, you see, not made of common clay. Besides, he had a poet's soul, and often in his ear Old Nature whispered secrets sweet which I could never hear. And yellow clouds, that were to me but vapour in the sky. To him were golden pictures from the brush of God on high. Well, as I just was telling you, we came upon the gold, 'Twas Charley's shift below, you see, the day was wet and cold, And I was at the windlass, when I heard my poor mate cry, "For God's sake, Harry, haul me up, for I'm about to die!" I pulled him quickly to the top, and brought his trembling form Into our hut, and wrapped him there in blankets thick and warm; "God bless you, mate," he murmured, "but your aid is all in vain. We'll never work together on this earth, I fear, again. "Upon the muster-roll of Death I've heard them call my name, I go to take possession of a richer, better claim — Just listen, Harry, listen, don't you hear it over there .-^ I know it is, I'm sure it is, that long-remembered prayer." lyi*^-*^-*^^^^*^'*^*^--*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^i^'^A^^^^^^^^^^^w-^An "Some strange, odd fancy, mate," I cried, "is wandering through your mind, The only sound I hear is the low wailing of the wind Amonofst the wild flax intheo^orq-eando'erthemountainsbare — " "Nay, 'tis not that, come closer and I'll tell you 'bout that prayer, "'Twas winter in the dear old land, and I was but a child; December, of the sullen brow, with voice so weird and wild, Laughed round the mansions of the rich, where comfort reigned secure, And howled with fiendish glee about the hovels of the poor. "Niorht orathered all her curtains o'er the orroves of leaf less beech, And on the ruined Abbey walls the owls began to screech; The swift electric swords of heaven flashed from each sable sheath. And shiv'ring poplars humbly bent to kiss the shrubs beneath. "The tempest marched triumphantly along its gloomy path, And e'en the oak obeisance made to Nature in her wrath; Yet all the clear ones laugh'd and joked within our home, and I Received that night a silver crown, for Christmas time was nigh. "But hark ! a low knock at the door disturbed our mirth and cflee, And I ran forth to open it — ' For Christ's dear sake, help me; My little ones are starving, we are hungry, weak, and cold. Oh! help us, boy, and may God keep you ever in His fold.' ♦5sc^r^.*?<»5.^»av^.^v»jv^^v^»^ THE BEGGAR'S PRAYER. ^^v-^^^-^^-Sw-^^^^^-^* I / 6 "A wretched, ragged creature, with her Httle starv'Hiigs four, Made this appeal, as cold and wet they shivered at our door; I thought not of the Nazarene's impressive Love command. Young impulse urged me, and I placed my crown within her hand. "She threw herself upon her knees, whilst tears sprang from her eyes. And raising up her hands in prayer, and looking to the skies, She cried, 'May God protect you, child, through all this world of sin, And when you reach His palace doors, may angels let you in.' "Oh Harry, through my long, long years of wand'ring, since that night, In weal and woe, across my path that prayer has shed a light; I heard it in the drive to-day, when sickness struck me down — A voice said, 'For your silver coin, you'll get a golden crown.' "Oh Harry, dear old mate, good-bye, I hear that voice again. And yonder opes the palace gates beyond the azure plain; God bless you, mate! remember that the path to bliss is sure To all who practise Charity — then don't forget the poor." y 1 74 '^^•J^'^*^*^^?.^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORI LAND. ^^4»^4!v^^4»^^<*^^ Just up the gully — there — you see that mound beside the creek, With roses clinging round the fence — your pardon, mate, I'm weak, This huskiness is but a cold I caught the other day — Oh! God be with you Charley, lad — Come, stranger, come away. NOT UNDERSTOOD. OT understood. We move along asunder, Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep Along the years ; we marvel and we wonder Wli)- life is life? and then we fall asleep, Not understood. Not understood. We gather false impressions. And hug them closer as the years go by, Till virtues often seem to us transgressions ; And tluis men rise and fall, and live and die, Not understood. Not understood. Poor souls with stunted vision Oft measure giants by their narrow gauge ; The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age, Not understood. 176 ■^•^•^•^^^•5^*>^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. <*4»<^^4!v4:^<^5^v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^v^-^^>5*-^>5*<*<^>^ When the dying blossoms cling To the skirts of parting Spring, Wattle-boughs and branches fling Showers of o-old o'er Lilian. When the Summer moon mounts high, Queen of all the speckless sky, Shafts of silver softly lie O'er the grave of Lilian. Mystic midnight voices melt Through each leafy bower and belt. Round the spot where friends have knelt — "Peace be with thee, Lilian." Far away from town and tower. Sleeping in a leafy bower. Withered lies the forest flower — "Peace be with thee, Lilian." There, where passions ne'er intrude, There, where Nature has imbued W'ith her sweets the solitude, Rests the form of Lilian. «$^^<*^^^^^<*^^K^^^^>9K^K^^ PAX VOBISCUM. ^5*-^*4*«*4*4*^-«w4»4* I 79 Dear old forest o'er the sea. Home of Nature's euphony. Pour thy requiem psalmody O'er the grave of Lilian. Guard that daisy-quilted sod: Thou hast there no common clod; Keep her ashes safe; for God Makes but few like Lilian. Sceptics ask me: ''Is that clay In the forest far away Part of her.^" — I only say: "Flow'rets breathe out Lilian; "From her grave their sweets mount high- Love and beauty never die — Sun and stars, earth, sea and sky All partake of Lilian." LIVE AND LOVE TO-DAY. HIS life's an hour we borrow From eternity's to-morrow, Our souls wear for a little time the mortal Qfarb of man, Ere they, in robes supernal, Soar away to the eternal; Then while our lives are vernal let's do all the good we can. This earth's place of meeting. Of rejoicing and of greeting, Where spirits waltz together in a masquerade of clay; We've but a short vacation In this earthly habitation, Then, grateful for its blessings, let us live and love to-day. We're budding^ and we're orowino-, And we're coming and we're going. We're struQ^orlinof and we're strivins: with our fellows in the race! ^*^^*^*^^^^<^^^^^*^'^^-*S^LlVE AND LOVE T0-DAY.-«»4*^»r4*^-s*>5»^>^ l8l We're sorrowing and fretting, Oft ionorinof and for^ettinof How small the circle of our course, how limited the space Allotted us bellow here! For the Phantom comes to mow here The human stalks that grow here, and w^e'd better strew his way With buds of love and duty, And flowers of peace and beauty. And blossoms of aftection — let us live and love to-dav. Away with cares and crosses. There are "gains for all our losses," And wages in the future, if our work be nobly done. Then in this hour of fleetness, Let us sip the purest sw-eetness From Earth's prolific bosom, while we're basking in the sun; Death's night, with stealthy motion. Climbs the edges of life's ocean. There may be golden linings to its clouds of sombre grey, But ere their shadows reach us. Oh, let truth this wisdom teach us. To work for one another, and to live and love to-day. 0mk SIX SONNETS. THE BIRD AND THE IDOL. SIMPLE lark — this is a fable new — That perched each morn upon a golden ra)-, Up where the lashes of the eye of day ^ Sweep all night's lesser jewels out of view; Beheld a lovely idol's shrine, and flew Down earthwards, to that form of painted clay, And warbled there his sweetest, purest la)', Thinking his son^ miMit it with life imbue. He sang to it God's Royal Anthem — Love; At Eden's windows he had caught the strain — His lay the soulless image could not move — His melodies were warbled all in vain; He turned away and tried to' soar above. But never reached his morning perch again. »?>*5.-^^»5>:^^»5^-#^»5^^^>.^»5<»5v»^*?^^k^^ TO Av4»-^»-^4»4!m-^4M:4»:4:m4»<<»<'m i8 TO 9t^:%. ■!Wl .^m^ ®1^ IKE some grand planet looking from its height Upon a duller orb, thy soul o'er mine Shoots forth effulgent radiance divine, And draws it up within its orbit bright. x\ffection's sparks, touched by its rays, ignite, And o'er the span of my existence shine. My spirit, drinking all its light from thine, Acknowledo^es itself thv satellite. Oh ! let it bask for ever in those beams. And quaff ethereal pleasure from that spring Of ecstasy, until this life appears A treasury of bliss, till each day brings Fresh draughts of love; and when we pass earth's years Let soul clasp soul in everlasting dreams. I 1 84 ^^^^<»5.»^^*^^v*5v^*5v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -5*-5«4*-^<*-%«4*.a»^»$>*3kTHE FIRST MATCH.>«*i>^<«>^'5*4*'5»^5*^.«* I 85 THE FIRST MATCH. C^ l^iY, 'tis the same wild flame ablaze to-day Which flash'd athwart the pristine garden's night, When angels dropp'd a spark of sacred light From heav'n's eternal lamp. The same rich ray Wliich, falling, blazon'd all the starry way, And strung a golden chain of planets bright Across the azure archway in its flig-ht, Then, reaching earth, illumed the living clay. The same wild flame now permeates and glows As fresh throuo^h this old world as \\^hen it burst On Eden's fruit. Ay, love's swift lightning goes Through flesh and blood, as hotly as when first The Prince of Darkness — Lucifer — arose And struck the first bad match, but not the worst. AA 1 86 ^^.^^•^•5v^v*5v»^*?^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. a^4»^^'^4»4:^4»4»^^4» AMBITION, FAME, AND LOVE. J'^; HE sun climbs up the mountain side at morn, To ope the hly's breast with golden key, The lark ascends with songs of wildest glee, To cheer his feathered love, when day is born ; And, like the sun, my lily I'd adorn, I'd open up the heart that's dear to me! And, like the lark, each song should be for thee! — Ambition, of thy true affection shorn. Holds out no prize to woo me up its height, For, after all, what is this loveless fame? A phantom bird that lures us in its flight Unto the glimmer of a transient flame, Then leaves us starless in the vacant night, Amonof the hollow echoes of a name. ^^^^ ;*^.^^>.^..♦^^^^.»5.^^^:#^>*^v•^:^>.•#5l> HENRY KENDALL. '«*4«>«*-^5*-'5*-^4*-5«-^>5»-^ I 8 7 HENRY KENDALL. fAIR Austral's eldest daughter veils her face, And drapes her sunny splendours in the gloom, ri-v Her tirst-born son of sono-, in manhood's bloom — I-^^JK The sweetest sinofer of her brave youncr race — "* Has joined the Dantesque shadows in the space Beyond the sapphire arch, and o'er the tomb ; He faded ere the wattle's golden plume Perfumed the sylvan scenes he loved to trace. He who had witch'd and charm'd the South'rn lute Till strains mellifluous swept o'er the land In floods of euphony; whose soul could shoot To Nature's heart, and pluck out, at command. Her secrets and her mysteries, is mute, The harp has fallen from the Minstrel's hand. OLD BENDIGO. "^W.^ \"^/ , Iff" ET Foley go with Redman; mind be careful of the steer; Bring Bob and Rambler from the creek they'll find good picking here. ,?v^^"4 Just fling this she-oak on the fire; there, ! y catch that end, now throw — _ _ g /^ t(|®if ^ This 'minds me of our maiden trip to dear old Bendigo. ^--- Old Bendigo! the very name is treasured in m)' breast — Just pass the billy this way, Jack. Not boiled yet! Well, I'm blest If that there wood will ever burn; this ironbark is slow — ■ You knew the gully of that name on dear old Bendigo. Oh, when we camped upon the track — that damper must be done — Around the blazing log at night, w hat tough old yarns were spun •5>.^.'^.*?^»5=^^*K*^^^>:^>*J^'»5>.'^^ OLD BENDIGO. ■4»4»»?.»5v^^^^<#5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. «*-^4*-^<*4*-^-5*.^<» I sigh whene'er I thhik upon — ^Jack, pass along the grub — The music of the puddling mill, the cradle, and the tub; The hurdy-gurdies, Germanbands, and minstrels too — why, blow It, you've upset the tea — on dear old Bendigo. The track of life is sometimes smooth, at other times 'tis rough; But we must take it as it comes — this beef is rayther tough — I feel a spider on my cheek — I've caught the varmint — no; Why, bless me! if it ain't a tear for dear old Bendigo. DE PROFUNDI S. "Is it good unto Thee that Thou shouldest oppress, that Thou shouldest despise the worlc of Thine hands, and shine upon the counsel of the wicked?' — Job. x. 3. HY are Thy people crushed, O Lord? Why do Th)' children moan? Thou art omnipotent, O Lord, And they are Thine own, Thine own. Ever and ever the millions cry: "Father, we suffer, and know not why. Born to struggle, and then to die, Why is the seed thus sown?" Here on the earth to-day, O Lord, Millions are slaves of pain ; Sin and sorrow are here, O Lord, And hunger, and serfdom's chain. ]q2 ^*^*^-*^*^-*i^*^*^»^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^»4»^^^4:^4»4»4»4»4:^ Ever and ever the millions say: "Father, to Thee we kneel and pray, 'Twas ever thus, as 'tis to-day. When shall we reap the grain ?" Tyrants rule upon high, O Lord, And knaves possess the land ; Greedy robbers hold sway, O Lord; Why dost Thou stay Thine hand? Back on the shores that are far behind, Trance of reason and sleep of mind Dwarf Thy people; they still are blind. Father, they cannot stand. We who are here on the heights. O Lord, Free in Thy fuller light. Wonder why nations are plunged, O Lord, Down in oppression's night, Back in the lands where Wrong is rife, Back on the shores where war and strife Are ever makino^ a Hell of life. Where is the reion of Rio^ht ? Souls are sighing for peace, O Lord; Hearts are lifted to Thee; Wails for mercy to Thee, O Lord, W ith many a plaint and plea, ii Out of the depths and darkness go: "Father, O Father, we nothing- know; Open Thy children's eyes below. As yet they cannot see." t^,- i(iui!ii BB NEW ZEALAND HYMN. i:OD of nations! at thy feet p^M' In the bonds of love we meet, t Hear our voices, we entreat, -- God defend our Free Land. Guard Pacific's triple star From the shafts of strife and war. Make her praises heard afar, God defend New Zealand. Men of every creed and race Gather here before Thy face, Asking Thee to bless this place, God defend our Free Land. From dissension, envy, hate, And corruption guard our State, Make our country good and great, God defend New Zealand. 4^,»5>;,5>^x^'^»?>^^'^*^-^'^NEW ZEALAND HYMN.^*^^^^*-^*-^^^*^*'-^ I 95 Peace, not war, shall be our boast, But, should foes assail our coast, Make us then a mighty host, God defend our Free Land. Lord of battles, in Thy might. Put our enemies to flight, Let our cause be just and right, God defend New Zealand. Let our love for Thee increase, May Thy blessings never cease. Give us plenty, give us peace, God defend our Free Land. From dishonour and from shame Guard our country's spotless name. Crown her with immortal fame, God defend New Zealand. May our mountains ever be Freedom's ramparts on the sea. Make us faithful unto Thee, God defend our Free Land. Guide her in the nation's van, Preachino- love and truth to man, Working out Thy glorious plan, God defend New Zealand. HOW VON TEMPSKY DIED. RAVE young land, thy roll of glory shines with i^^l many a gallant name, Thou hast many a thrilling story dear to honor, true to fame; Thou canst boast a band of heroes whose undying deeds shall blaze When thy chronicles of valor shall be read in after days. We are busy with the present, and we seldom glance behind, — Busy building up a nation, w^e seem thoughtless and unkind, — Sentiment is out of fashion, gratitude is fast asleep, We have little time for thinking, little time to sing or weep; Little time to sing their praises or to weep for those who bought Peace for us and for our children with their life-blood; men wdio fouofht With the hearts and souls of lions 'gainst a fearless savage foe. Trusty rifle against rifle, hand to hand and blow for blow; .•5v'^..^>,^#5c^,»5>.-^o^.^c^^^^ HOW VON TEMPSKY DIED. ^5*^5*-^5*r.4*-.<*^^^>5*'<^ \(^y For the nonce they are forgotten, but the time is close at hand When the men who saved our country shall be honor'd in the land; Then among the line of heroes, one shall take a foremost place. One who was not of our people, one who was not of our race. One who followed glory's beacon from his boyhood till he fell, Dying like a valiant soldier, after fighting long and well. List the story of Von Tempsky, — master of the sword and lance, — Brief the record, yet it seems like some wild legend or romance; Born in the Germanic nation, in a martial cradle nursed, — Gallant son of gallant soldier, glory claimed him from the first; For the blood of ancient Poland filled his veins and made his heart Leap with a desire to pla)' in freedom's cause a leading part. His a breast that knew not danger, his a stalwart arm and bold, His a nature far too tameless to be cribb'd in cages old; All the narrow ways of Europe, all the selfishness of caste. All the tyranny of custom, all the serfdom of the past. Roused his eao-le soul to ancjer, and the soldier fled afar To the wild Mosquito region where the hurricane of war Blew away the Old World cobwebs from his eyes and from his brain, As he led the untamed hidians 'gainst the troops of Sunny Spain. Then again his love of 'venture took him to the Golden Gate, Swept him back once more to Europe, and from thence his wayward fate Tempted him across the ocean to the land of cloudless skies, Where the hunters after fortune madly sought the precious prize; Not for him the golden treasure, not for him the yellow corn, He was doomed to die a soldier, for a soldier he was born. 198 '^"^^"^"*^'^^'^'*^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -5*r4*^s*<*^4*r-5*^4*<*^<*^-^ On the plains of fair New Zealand savage war was in the air, Plucky yeomen wanted leaders, and Von Tempsky's place was there- Are there any Forest Rangers, — any of his comrades here? If there are, then they can tell us of the hero's bright career. How he, with the Flying Column, drove the Rebels from their lair In the wild Henua Ranges; how his rifle's flash and flare Mark'd the van in every movement ; how his aim was firm and true, How he always was the foremost where the bullets thickest flew ; How he, with McDonnell, ventured boldly into dangers teeth, Moving up at Paparata to the very mouth of death. They could tell of Mangapiko, and of fanied Orakau's fight, Where Von Tempsky won fresh laurels by his valor and his might ! Peace came in and spread her mantle all along Waikato's shore, And the hero briefly rested till war's demon shriek'd once more Through romantic Taranaki; then again he sought the front, Ready to protect our banner and to bear the battle's brunt, Ready at the call of duty, ready to fill honor's post. Quick to grapple with the foemen, very slow to count the cost; Self with him was next to nothing, bravery was all in all. If we need the proof 'tis furnished in the picture of his fall; Here it is: — Behold the forces boldly marching through the bush, — Rurarua must be taken, — must be taken with a rush, — This is fierce Titiko Waru's stronghold, and it must come down, Hunt the Rebels from their fastness; onward, lads, for Queen and Crown! "Onward, lads!" a storm of bullets whistles through the Rata trees. :^,i>.^.^^^^.^^.*5.^^»5^HOW VOX TEMPSKY DIED.-*-«»^^«»=^^^^I99 And a )ell of fierce defiance swells on the September breeze. "Back, lads, back! the swarthy devils are invisible; 'tis vain, We can't storm the pa while bullets fall among us thick as rain; Back, lads!" See the troops retreating, with their wounded and their dead, While the gallant Forest Rangers, with \^on Tempsky at their head. Fill the gory gap of danger, covering their friends' retreat. While Death's leaden messengers continue flying sharp and fleet. Safely hidden in the Ratas are the Rebels; vanished Hope Leaves Confusion close behind her; open courage cannot cope With the foes who lie in ambush; chances of success are past; — ".Under cover ! Comrades," cries he, and that sentence is his last ; "Under cover, Comrades!" cries he, while exposed the leader stood, — Whizz'd the bullet and the orreen s^rass turn'd to crimson with his blood, As the gallant soldier's spirit vanished from the soldier's shell, — This is how the hero left us, this is how \'on Tempsky fell. (^ THE COLONIST. ^ORN'S crimson banner floats across the East, And bounteous Nature spreads her harvest feast ; l^, The eye of day is peeping o'er tlie plain, ) His silv'ry glances kiss the golden grain; Sweet flowers, awaking from their dewy dreams, Look up and smile beneath his warming beams; The sparkling creek laughs brightly 'neath his rays, And woos the lambkins with its babbling lays. From yonder homestead in the river bend Blue wreaths of smoke in snake-like folds ascend ; They seem like spiral stairs by angels given. That fireside prayers might mount their steps to Heaven; For round that hearth, before and after toil, The hardy tiller of the fruitful soil ■ rrorr) y0r)dep l-)orr)estead in tV)G piv'ep \)Qr)d kjluQ Wrea"tl-)S oj^ srnokc in sneikG-liUe J ©las ascend. .^•^^.■♦^♦?.-*><^*?<^#5>.»?.^^-^ THE COLONIST. ^4»4»4»4»4!v^^i¥<»^'>^^v^»5>»5^#K»5v'»5^*5>.^.;^^^»5-:^v^^ THE COLONIST. 4»-^-^-^.<»>^-^>^>^-^-«*' 2O3 Religion showers her blessinos on his head, And Education follows in his tread. Ye dupes, who plead the fierce barbarian's cause, Throw sickly sentiment aside, and pause In contemplation o'er this lovely scene, Contrasting what it is with what 't has been, And then confess that knowledge must advance. And break the yoke of slavish ignorance — Civilization's ensign be unfurled, And truth enliorhten a reo-en'rate world. WAITING FOR THE MAIL E 'RE bound unto the dear old land with ties of strong affection; We love our Island Mother still, and would not break the chain Which bridges all the present with the past in fond connection, Upon whose span the old and new embrace across the main: A highway o'er the mountain waves, that plunge in mad commotion, Is opened up for commerce, and we welcome every sail Which brings us news of loving friends we left beyond the ocean ; Our hearts beat quick with hope and fear whilst waiting for i the mail. The daring soul who fled afar from poverty's oppression, To publish 'neath a freer sky proud manhood's rightful claim; .^5^r»^»K-^^^^.^^.^#^^#5^^^>.-^^ WAITING FOR THE MAT!,. ^?*^4*<*^4*-^^*>s*-^-«« 2O5 The wild, unbridled stripling, banished from his sire's possession, For staining the escutcheon of an ancient honored name, Are waiting at the post: the youth expecting a "remittance" — His landlord frowns upon him now, and stops his wine and ale. The other sent a trifle Home to swell a mother's pittance. And anxiously awaits affection's answer by the mail. Yon sentimental dreamer, who seems lost in meditation, Is thinking of the bright- eyed lass he left far o'er the sea — "For thee, my girl, I left my home to help to build a nation; She'll surely send a letter kind, if still she's true to me." The golden towers of hope spring up before him in his dreaming, Beside him stands a man whose soul ne'er rises o'er a bale Or package : still his busy brain for wealth is ever scheming — With restless eager eye he waits advices by the mail. That matron with the cheerful smile, who leads the pretty fairy With flaxen curls, expects a loving message from afar, — "Oh, Mother! What will Granny send this mail to little Mary?" And here's a man who wants to know if "Railways" are at par; Those mushroom politicians are discussing Europe's troubles; Miss Lackadaisy's eager for Miss Braddon's latest tale; And Swindleton is wond'ring if some antipodean bubbles W' ould float upon the London mart, while waiting for the mail. 206 ^!.5v;»j^.-^^^v^v.^ci^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >«*4*«*4»4w^*-4*4*4*r>5^ An hour hence, and some will leave the office quite elated, And some until another mail must linger in suspense, Whilst others, more unfortunate, to disappointment fated. Will swear all friendship is a sham, and love a false pretence; Bright sparks of hope are oft conveyed in some slight simple token. To light the spirit onward, till "there's no such word as fail;" And after the "delivery" true hearts are sometimes broken; But still we nurse each cherished wish, whilst waiting for the mail. V^ ^« ^^)-: ^i- AT SUNSET. ;i=^ UT on the beach w hen night was creeping — Robed in shadows — across the dome, We watched the waves as, shoreward leaping, The)- fringed che sands with streaks of foam. Ocean's heart, with its ceaseless throbbing, Beat 'gainst billows that rose and fell; Sometimes sinoino-, and sometimes sobbino^, Sea-ghosts came on each foamy swell. I stood dreaming of some old story, Picturing forms on each white crest, 'Tranced in thought, till a flash of glory Limn'd the skirts of the distant west. "Look!" you cried, and we gazed, in wonder, Over the deep where sea and sky Met and kissed, as the sun danced under Beams of gold in the archway high. 208 *5<^^»^-^v»>^-^>.^^^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -«»4»^4*^5*^5*^^-^^.«» Oh! the splendour that tipp'd the mountains; Oh! the beauty that rimm'd the lea; Streams of brilliants, from rainbow fountains, Sparkling fell on the purple sea. Calmness stole o'er the deep, and lowl)- Whispers floated upon the breeze: "Hail to Thee, Holy, holy, holy! Painter of shores and skies and seas!' Not by us were the pure words spoken; Not by us were the pure words said; We were mute till the spell was broken; We but gazed at the Heaven ahead. Gazed, and worshipped, and prayed, and wondered If that glory would gild the way When life's sun sets, and friends are sunder'd, And spirits 'scape from their shells of clay. 9(» w ^' O^0 Was \he I n vv'Svy jlal^es "i"© l^er b©(^ice le\A^ pell over her sl~)©ul€lcrs, whi^e and b©PG, iheWer ©f ^©Id ®r) hills of so®W. " THE CHRISTMAS QUEEN. AN AUSTRALIAN TALE. HE was the queen, and her auburn hair In wavy flakes to her bodice low, Fell over her shoulders, white and bare, A shower of gold on hills of snow. She was the queen, and her dark blue eyes Mellowed the glare of the ball-room's light. Men who had thouoht themselves woman-wise. And free from love, were enslaved that night. Beautiful maidens were there, but none Shone with such grace and such royal mien; When the last waltz of the night was done. They hailed fair Bertha their Christmas queen. DD 2 1 ^»?v■»K♦^v^■»^>.•^^^•^v. MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. <^>^^^4»^4»c»jc^»5v^.^< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^4m4»4!rA*4:vAm<^<*<* And Hubert stood by his Bertha's steed — "I pass, my love, by your father's door, The track is narrow, I'll take the lead, And you can follow, I'll ride before." Then spake another, with passion hoarse, "This lady came to the ball with me. And she will return with me, of course,"— "I've promised Hubert," said Bertha Leigh. "That he should act as my homeward guide, But you can come with us, Cyrus Gray — " "Oh no, you're happier by Ms side, I'll reach the house by a shorter way." Your noble natures are ever slow Suspecting evil — had Hubert read His rival's eyes, he'd have mark'd a foe, He merely laughed, and then rode ahead. The moon looked down on that Christmas morn O'er uplands mantled in gold and green. Clustering vines and ripening corn Belted the skirts of the forest scene. ^^^■^■^^^■^■^^vc^-^.a^ THE CTIRTSTMAS QUEEN. ^4mAw^^(» 2 I 3 Musical magpies were all awake Rehearsing in glee their Christmas lays, And carols and hymns for morning break, To join all Nature in songs of praise. Paroquets flocked to the creek's green Q(\ge, To learn new notes from the playful stream That dashed through the rushes, reeds and sedge, Tellinof them all of the snowflake's dream. Up on the hills where it slept all spring, 'Til summer's sun clomb the mountain's side, And bid it wake from its sleep, and bring Its freshness down in a babbling tide. Fed by the brooklets purling along, Stronger it grew, as rushing it fell Down through the gully; louder its song Burst from the forest into the dell. The echoes that dwelt in sombre shades. Where forest giants embraced above, With leafy arms over dark green glades. Like firm old friends link'd in ancient love. 2 14 ■^^**'"^^^*^'^^*^"^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. <^>^-«*4v^>5»<^>;*^»>5» The echoes caught up the clatt'ring sound Of patt'ring hoofs on the lonely track, And beat it to music round and round — Then came a shriek and a rifle crack. A hundred shots and a hundred shrieks, Borne by the echoes round hill and glen, Far in the scrub on the distant peaks The dinge in fright fled from his den. They died away, then a low sad croon Was heard on the breeze, and then the boom Of swamp-frogs came from the dark lagoon. Like ghouls at work in some dismal tomb. Throuo^h ti-tree scrub rushed the kan»5c»5<^*5^-^ THE CHRISTMAS QUEEN. ^^A^^sm^^-^^Am 2 I 5 The angels opened the gates above, And welcomed two souls escaped from earth, And ushered them through the halls of love Where seraphs sang of their Prince's birth. And where, you ask, is their earthly bed.'' Deep in the bush 'neath a rich green mound, Where weeping wattles at evening shed Their silver tears when the spring comes round. Bright silver tears from rich cups of gold. Fall from the arms of each bendino- tree. And sweet buds spring from the sacred mould O'er Hubert Cressey and Bertha Leigh. "And what of him with the brand of Cain?" He fled, and his fate is still unknown, But trust me, souls with a crimson stain Cannot escape from the Judgment Throne. LEAH. 1 ■''ilV: REE at last from the orloom that clouded " " Life and love in thy sinking- day; §-' Thy brow is veil'd, thy fair limbs shrouded, fe'Sl^ Clay is married again to clay. Free at last from the curse of beauty, Free at last from the weeds that grow Round the buds on the path of duty. When genius walks; 'tis better so — Better so, when the world grows dreary; Better so, when young hopes have fled; Better so, when the heart grows weary — Better livino^ amono;- the dead. Livincj amoncf the dead — I've said it^ Some may rot, and yet some shall rise Out of the grave; then who shall dread it? 'Tis but the soulless clod that dies. ^^.^^♦5v^<^c»jv»^-»?c^v^#5o^v^»$v»^>^j^^ LEAH. >^4*4*-^-^4»-^-^-^>^-^-«*-^ 217 Strangers smoothed thy raven tresses Over thy marble brow, my girl; Closed thy lips with no fond caresses, Closed them over the rows of pearl. Strangers seal'd up those orbs whose flashes Kindled often a quenchless spark; Seal'd them under their long dark lashes, Cover'd thy face — and then all was dark. "Earth to earth!" and the clay was scatter'd, Scatter'd over thy peaceful breast; "Dust to dust!" and it little matter'd — Only a woman had gone to rest. What knew they of the passions tameless.^ They but planted another clod; "Let her sleep, though she was not blameless, Give her soul to her Father — God. "He is merciful, good and gracious; He can raise up the weak and low; In the halls of His mansions spacious Scarlet sins are made white as snow." EE 2 1 8 '•^•^■^^■*^-^-*^-*^-*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^:m^^4»-^-^^4»^4» Softly spoken the words, and kindly — Freezing natures that have not known Scorching rays can but measure blindly Any heat that is not their own. Night steals on, and the leaflets tremble Up on the boughs of tall dark trees; Night steals on, and the ghosts assemble Out on the skirts of siehine seas. Night steals on, and the shadows hover Round the couch of the dying day; Night steals on, and my song is over, All its music has died away — Died away on the waves that sever Past from present, and shore from shore; Meltino- into the ereat "for ever" — Gone to her who has Qrone before. THE BAD OLD TIMES. ma 'PIRIT of Progress, raise thy cheerful voice, And chant the death-song of the Bad Old Times ; Unfettered peoples of the earth rejoice! i^ At length ye triumph o'er the Bad Old Times. Young heirs of Freedom, children of her choice, Builders of Empires in the Golden Climes, Oh learn a lesson from the perished past — Before you lies the future, clear and vast: 'Tis yours, to shape and mould the Coming Times. Look down, my brothers, from this loft)- height, Into the murky depths of yon ravine, Where Ages dead, float o'er the pool of night — Whose stagnant dreors submerQ^e Earth's fairest orreen, Where gasping freedom, with her torch alight, And banner blazoned with the crest of Right! 2 20 'm^-*^^^^*^*^*^-*^-^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^5*^>%»^<*4*>«»4*4»>5» Bursts from the tyrant grasp of brutal Might, To 'scape the dungeons where her cage hath been. Oh, Brother Freemen! when the nations lay Beneath the shadow of the Bad Old Times, Fierce, crimson-handed Bigotry held sway — (Curs'd mother of the blackest, foulest crimes), And marshalled all her fiends in grim array To nurture Hate, and banish Love away; Her footprints still remain on Earth to-day. Erase them, brothers, from our Golden Climes! Oh, Brother Freemen, w'hen the night was dark, Injustice sat enthroned on scaffold high — True Manhood, branded w^th the Traitor's mark. Found no approach to Justice, save to die. But Freedom's embers slept in Reason's Ark — Unquenched, though black, until the People's cry Fanned into life one grand Promethean spark. Which flash'd athwart the clouds and cleared the sky. Oh, Brother Freemen, we have reached the hill; Our giant sires have formed and made the track. Their axes cleared our path with manly will — Press onward up the mountain, turn not back; Below us sink the cruel. Bad Old Times, Swept by an avalanche of blood and crimes. With screw and gibbet, torture-wheel and rack :»5.»5^^.»^»>:,K^v*5^^^.jv^*K THE BAD OLD TIMES. ^>«»4*^4*-^^>^^ 2 2 1 Into Time's whirlpool, there to lie until Our mountain torrents, in translucent flood, Rush from the lofty peaks of Freedom fair, And sweep away the stagnant pools of blood That still with noisome breath pollute the air. Then white-robed Peace, with mantle pure and rare, Shall veil the mem'ry of the Bad Old Times — When War's red corse lies in its purple lair; When Love reigns King, and Tyrants shall not dare To stain Earth's Olden Lands or Golden Climes. - ^-.jA)^ NOT DEAD. 9 GAZED upon the withered buds and said- ,r» "Sweet Httle flow'rets, ye are precious yet, The sun that kissed ye into life has set, The fragrant perfume of your breath has fled. "Pure rehcs of the sweetness of the earth, Your blushing loveliness of yesterday Has vanished, and your bloom has passed away, The garden bee forgets your place of birth. "Bright new-born sisters fill your cradles green, And sip at morn your cups of pearly dew. They grow to-day where yesterday ye grew. And smile around as if ye ne'er had been. ^^^f^s-^v^^-^^^^^^*^^*^^^*^^*^-*}^^*^^*^^*^ NOT DEAD. '«*'^*^^»>5»4»>4*-^4*>t*.4»-^4» 2 2 3 "Why are ye precious, then, sweet flow'rets, why, If those poor faded leaves alone remain As dear mementoes of your transient reign? — Because to me, sweet buds, ve cannot die! "A gentle hand has made ye part of me, For here below, our selfish spirits cull All they can gather of the beautiful To clothe themselves for immortality." PASSING THROUGH THE GATE. W//"'EN years of sorrow and of orlee Have fled since first you met with me, When mother asked you home to tea: You stayed until 'twas late, Jack; And when you wished us all "Good night," To show you out I brought the light; You caught my hand and pressed it tight Whilst passing through the gate, Jack. You came again, and when we met. You said I was your darling pet. You praised my hair and eyes of jet, And called me "Pretty Kate," Jack; At your approach, though Snap w^as dumb. The cute old 'possum on the gum Laughed loudly when he saw me come To greet you at the gate. Jack. '■If angels S0iT)e4irr)es ^vv^lp'H leaves tKeir b®n)e, ^(l^^""-!^?'^ yAr)d o'sr e^rtq's l^v'ely Valleys rearr) "^ \r) seetrcl^ ©y ouds 1"© deck +1~)@ dorne "©Ve Gods iT)r@r)@ ©j si"ai'e^(>J(ack. '^^(^ ■^.^^•^^♦^.a^.#5v.^»jv PASSING THROUGH THE GATE. ^^^'^^^-s*'^^ 225 A month had scarcely died away, When on a bright-faced summer's day, A coach and pair (the horses grey) — My heart retains the date, Jack — Drove up the lane, and stopped before The rose-bush hedge that faced our door. And two light bosoms, brimming o'er With joy, passed through the gate. Jack. And months of pleasure came and went, And each new season brought content, Three love-gifts unto us were sent; Our happiness was great. Jack. A manly boy, reflecting you. And Lilly, with her orbs of blue, And Kate with eyes of hazel hue — Oh, blessings on that gate, Jack. But aneels sometimes leave their home. And o'er earth's lovely valleys roam hi search of buds to deck the dome Above God's throne of state. Jack; They came into our garden fair, And gathered up our flowerets rare; Then climbing up yon starry stair. They brought them through the gate. Jack FF 2 26 ^^^*>--*^^^^>-^*^-*^-*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^v^^-^^^^-^^^^-^^^-^* The withered stalks fell 'neath the sod, And sorrow hung o'er our abode; Some said it was the "will of God," And others said 'twas "fate," Jack; And summer came, and spring- went by. The world seemed blank to you and I — No merry laugh, nor childish cry Was heard about the gate. Jack. But peace to us has come again; We're linked to them with deathless chain. Behind the sun, beyond the plain, We know for us they wait. Jack; And when we've run this earthly race. In heaven for us they'll keep a place. Where soul to soul, and face to face, They'll meet us at the gate, Jack. THE EMIGRANT'S WELCOME. E greet you, stranger, to this land Where slaves have never trod — The breeze which sweeps our mountains Is the breath of freedom's god. If \"Ou've a hand to help us In the work we've ofot to do (The building of a nation grand) Then, friend, we welcome you. We greet you, stranger, if you have A soul that can expand To thank great Nature for the gifts She strews with lavish hand. In time's progressive vanguard, We are marching: staunch and true — If you've a heart to join our ranks, Then, friend, w^e welcome you. 2 28 ^^^:^v>^'^'^o#$c^< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -5«f^-^4»^>^4»^4*<« -^ We greet you, stranger, if you can Turn up the maiden field, And garner the proHfic wealth Our virgin soil will yield. If you can search earth's bowels. And her treasures bring to view. Or fashion in the shop or forge. Then, friend, we welcome you. We greet you, stranger, if you have A mind that's skilled to teach A youthful State the clearest road True happiness to reach. The quarter-deck of our young ship Is open to the crew; If you've the talent to command. Then, friend, we welcome you. But, stranger, if you come to spurn The gifts which God has sent, To pass your days in indolence. Or brood in discontent; With soul and* body chained in vice, Unfit for honest gear, Then let us tell you plainly, friend, We do not want you here. ♦s.,i^-»*.-^^»^-^-»5>»5^»^>^v. THE EMIGRANTS WELCOME. >«*--<»-5«>s*4v4v4*>«* 2 2 9 No wretched dens, nor crowded lanes, Where squaHd starvelings hide, Disgrace our pure untainted plains — The road to wealth is wide. The blessinofs which oreat Heaven bestows On man are here to spare, Come join us, true and noble souls, We offer you a share. f^ THE OLD LOG HUT. AN AUSTRALIAN BUSHMAN'S TALE. HE skeleton of the Old Log Hut Is standing yonder beside the creek That purls along with its ceaseless chant, Through reeds and rushes and tangled roots, Running away, till its mellow song- Sinks in the depths of its mother's voice; Though it had birth on the mountain tops, Far, far away from the giant flood, Yet still it is Ocean's lisping child. And ever she calls it to her breast. The skeleton of the Old Log^ Hut Is standing there in its solitude. And thistles and mallows thick and rank, Are spreading over the camping ground, And weeds grow strong in the garden plot; The flowers are dead and the fence is down, And the rosebush hedge, with stragghng stems hi wildness grows, hke an untrained child Who nurses the wasting thorns of vice That choke the blossoms of hope and truth. The skeleton of the Old Log Hut Remains a relic of other times; And still do the stately gum trees stretch Their shadows athwart the dark lagoon. Upon whose edges the carpet snakes Bask in the heat of the noon-day sun, And iguanos come down to drink, And flaunt their scales in the golden blaze; Whilst laughing birds on the lofty boughs Are mocking- the merriment of man. "Let's hobble the nags, old mate of mine. We'll wait for the team whilst they've a spell; This hut to me is a sacred shrine, We've all some little romance to tell. 'Tis years since last I have viewed this vale, But sit ye down, and I'll tell my tale. "Her father was a simple man, Her mother was a kind old dame, And I was their adopted son, 232 '^^^^c^v^^>3^*^^v.-»K MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -«*-«*-^-^>5*4»>^»s4»>^4* A playmate of the only one Who bore their honoured, stainless name. Our lives in peace and comfort ran, Until a dark-soul'd villain came To cast a blight on all around, And steal my bud from them and me. Old mate I still can hear the sound Of that sweet voice so full of glee; Her eyes were of the darkest blue. Bright ripplets from the spring of love; The gold which gave her hair its hue, Came from the sun's own mint above; No classic artist ever Qfave The impress of a goddess fair To stone or canvas, with such skill As God placed His image there; But still she sank, misfortune's slave — I should not murmur, 'twas His will, And now she's in His holy care. I was a rash, romantic boy, That nurtured rich ideal themes, — Oh, how I pictured scenes of joy, And built up palaces in dreams When she was seated by my side, Beneath the ferns' umbrageous shade, Or strolling by the brooklet's side. That still meanders down the Made. Or wandering where the wattles shook Their golden ringlets on the breeze. :»K»5<^*5>*5>»5v»5.'*5v»5^»^»?.»5v THE OLD LOG HUT. A^-»^*^^>-**-*5^»^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -«*4»4*4»4»-t*-5»^5*-«*>^ Half hate, half fear, half doubt, half dread; I fancied that I could espy That grave where honour's soul lay dead Within his cold deceitful eye. His was a free and ready tongue, And when the evening meal was o'er, Upon his words the old man hung, ^And wondered much how one so young Could have a brain so stocked with lore. He told us of his roving life. His travels on the parched-up tracks Of Northern Austral, and of strife With savages, where war was rife 'Tween ventur'us whites and cunnino- blacks. He'd wandered far, where Wills and Burke Unlocked the bosom of our land; But more he did not care to roam, And he would lend a willinQf hand To earn his bread by manly work, If he could find a quiet home. The boon was granted, then was made A compact, and with us he stayed To watch the cattle on the plain, And gather in the ripened grain. Old mate of mine, say hast thou seen The sprouting corn change in a day From freshest, fairest, purest green. To sapless, dried, and withered hay; Say, hast thou seen the flowers at morn, •a^-»5>,.^^*jic»=k^^<^»^*».*5>v»5^^^^ THE OLD LOG HUT. >^«*>5*^5*-«*>5v'«»^*'-5*^«* 235 In Strength and beauty sweetly blow, And in the evening, like the corn, Bend o'er their stems and cease to grow? Then, canst thou understand the change That swept across my inmost soul, And darkened all the glittering goal That woo'd me to the future! — Strange That Fate should claim such bitter toll. Oft when we climb Ambition's range: Then thou canst understand how swift The buddings of affection fell — These flowerets I had nursed so well — When nipped by Sorrow's wintry drift; And Hope again shall never lift Their leaflets with her magic spell. Days gathered into weeks, and they Ran into months — -still he remained; And when the moon of Autumn waned hi wintry depths of sombre gre)-. He still sat at our board, and she Would gloat upon his every glance Like one in a mesmeric trance. And soon she scarcely noticed me; W'hene'er he smiled her face was bright. And when he frowned her brow was sad; Ah, mate! I then was nearly mad, Despair had dimmed Love's holy light Within my breast, and in its stead Came jealousy to foster hate. 236 '^♦^^•^♦^^•^♦^•J- MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '<»'4!*-4»<» y^.^».4» 4» ^^-^Wr And rule supreme where hope lay dead. Oh, why came he to blast my fate, And rob me of my lovely mate, The maid to whom my soul was wed? Why linger on the record drear, Of bootless love and wounded pride? Within the circle of the year, Her parents and my guardians died. And scarcely were the tear-drops dried Upon the mound above their bier, When she became Black Harold's bride; And then I fled, with spirit crushed. Far, far across the forests wild; And many a night when I've been bush'd Where all save Nature's voice was hushed, I've wept like some forsaken child; But when grief's floodgates were unpent, A ray of hope would sometimes dart Across my path, to light my heart. And banish grief and discontent. Well, soon I found a new abode, Encra^ed to till the fertile soil, I fought my way along life's road, And earned my bread by honest toil. And then I said, 'I will forget That Alice and myself ere met; I will forget that witching face. So full of soul, and love, and grace; I will forget the time when she ,5.,5.^v^>»5^.5s,^^»?.*j^»?.^»5v^, THE OLD LOG HUT. ^>^-%»>%»-«*-%*^?»>5*4*r>5» 237 Was oruardian anoel unto me, When to my ear her tender words Mock'd all the music of the birds; I will forget those eyes I praised, I will forget those towers I raised; I will forget — ' Ah! vain resolve, Go, ask the earth to stay its course, And round the sun no more resolve; Go quell the angry tempest's force. Command the breakers not to move — The problem of creation solve; Explore the highest heaven above. And quench the most refulgent star: These tasks are easier by far. Than strivino: to foro-et the form We worshipped when affection warm. Wove fairy dreams round early love. Old Winter walked in Autumn's track Three circuits, in his train came Spring, With roseate smiles, three times to bring Her blessings in profusion back To earth; and when she'd taken wing, Warm Summer, like a blushing maid. Took up her bright-eyed sister's place. And three times at her station stayed. And three times in the circling race. She saw her sister's flowerets fade. And all that time I did not hear From Alice, save in dreamings vain; 238 *5v*^-^-*?^»5>»?.^^^»^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. A>r^^^^4»Am^'^^^AK And then to me she would appear With heart as li^ht and eve as clear As when she was my playmate dear: And fond old times rolled back agfain. Well mate, to make my story short, Some business called me into town; And passing by the City Court, Some mornings after I'd been down, I mingled with the idlincr throno^ That gathered in the civic hall, Where sin and grief and shame and wrong, Were borne in one dark stream along, To show how men and women fall. The drunkard's gang came first, and then A wretched-lookinof w^oman stood Before the Bench, and by her side A ragged little starvling cried; hitense emotion fired my blood — Old mate, I knew that form again. 'Twas Alice, withered, sad, and pale; Oh! what a change had taken place hi that once sweet, expressive face. A charge of vagrancy was brought; The case was clear the Justic thought; At midnight she was seen to roam, Without a friend, without a home, Without a cheerful word to light The darkness of misfortune's night. Oh ! as she _told her mournful tale. .^^^.^■^^■^^•i^^m^.:*^^*^^^^^^ THE OLD LOG HUT. A*<»4»4»4»4»4»4»4:^^ 239 Old mate, I cursed the human race; Betrayed, deserted, scorned, reviled, By him, the villain, who beguiled Her pure affections with his art. Then left her with a broken heart. And spirit crushed, to nurse his child. Our glances met — a piercing shriek Rane throuMi the buildiuQ^, and she fell Upon the floor; her pallid cheek Told all the grief she could not speak. Old friend, I really cannot tell What happened next. My reeling brain Wrapt all my senses in a cloud; And when to me they came again, I stood amidst a motley crowd Upon the street, and some one said That she was dying or was dead Within the hospital. I ran, A sorrowful distracted man. Into the ward where she was laid; And, kneeling down beside her bed, I kissed her cold, pale lips, and prayed. And then a brio-ht smile rested on Her tranquil features, thin and wan. A radiant orleam that flashed once more Across the gates of Mem'ry's store, Unlocking all the wealth of yore Within my bosom's inmost core. And then in accents soft and low, >40 '^^♦^^•^^■^".^'^■^^^♦^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '^-5*r.5*-5*^4*4*'4*'4»r.4*'4*' She said to me, 'Before I go To rest in peace, oh, promise me You'll guard my child when I am free!' 'By all the love I once bore thee, I swear to guard it,' I replied; And then the veil was drawn aside, The gates of heav'n were opened wide, God's lamp of immortality Across her tranquil features shone; Her soul escaped, her body died, And all her earthly w^oes were gone. Black Harold has not crossed my path, For both of us, 'tis just as well; Old mate, I could not bind my wrath Were we to meet! You know sw^eet Nell, The blue-eyed little fairy lass That keeps my home beyond the dell, And twines her image round my heart? Well, she is Aley's child! You seem Astonished! — Why, here comes the team. And we must reach the mountain pass To-nio^ht. Then let us uo and start." ^?^RiS? M- -^■^.^ ^^ r/0t In t> r) I w i s+s exv)^ ft/"'*'' twirjcs tl^e ivy sf)ir)es, ■ '^^^'''^^^^^^^ -perj^ly cleisps tl-)e ruir)e(^ steepl( 1 "p€tr)cy ©f+, t}-)® dsiWs ale-pt r\re. leiuanir)*^ el©wr)\A/gtras ei't tr)e peepl®. A DREAM OF CHILDHOOD. OME, father, dear, the morn is clear, The azure arch has not a shadow; ^f! The lark, so free, lilts o'er the lea, And quails run madly through the meadow. Through furze and sedge, and hazel hedge. The linnets, finches, blackbirds, thrushes, Chant thrillincr strains, and sweet refrains Are wafted through the holly bushes. The orchard trees embrace the breeze, Profusely hung with sweets, they shiver; Laburnums weep o'er yonder steep; Their yellow ringlets kiss the river. Say, shall we go where lilacs blow. And beech' trees weave their boughs together? Or throuofh the orove, where sweethearts love To meet at eve in summer weather? HH 242 ^^f^^f^^*^^^-^^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. A»4»^4»4im4M4ff4»A*^ Or up the stile, where wood-nymphs smile, And sport around when stars are gleaming; And fairies cross the velvet moss At midnight, father, whilst we're dreaming? The sycamore, that stretches o'er The greensward, when the lambkins gather, Protects the glade with tranquil shade — Come, let us wander there, dear father. Tall witch-elms guard the old churchyard, Where mother lies 'neath grassy cover, With silver fringe and golden tinge — The pretty daisies bloom above her. In twists and twines the ivy shines. And fondly clasps the ruined steeple; I fancy oft, the daws aloft Are laughing downwards at the people. You know the grot, and shepherd's cot, Across the park, where grow the cherries; In clusters rich, along the ditch, Hang sloes, and haws, and brierberries. H^*K^<^.»5<»s.»^^^^^,5^ A DREAM OF CHILDHOOD, '^v-t*^^*-^*-^-^.^^*- 243 The rushy pond Hes just beyond, — There lives the cunning tyrant, otter; Around its brink pale lilies drink, And view their faces in the water. But sorrow's trace is on thy face, Dear father! hast thou cause for sadness? No orloom should now be on thy brow, When bloomino^ Nature lausfhs with o-ladness. Ah! thou art gone! and I'm alone, — There's magic in those dreaming hours. From Mem'ry's root springs fancy's fruit, And childhood's purest, fairest flowers! OLD LETTERS. HAT stories of the vanished time those dear old letters bring; They strike the chords of memory that round the heart's core cling. These whisper softl)- in our ears of forms and faces fled; They summon back the distant ones, and conjure up the dead; They fan the smouldering flame of thought that slumbers in the brain; They preach a plaintive sermon, and they chant a sad refrain. With trembling hands and beating hearts we ope those letters old; A little history is hid within each crumpled fold. They tell of love, they tell of grief, perchance the)- tell of shame ; ^^.^♦5v-^^,5v-^v»^T^»j>-»?K*»»?.*5v^^ OLD LETTERS. •<*'5*f>5*-4*-4*^*-5*r4*-4*<*-4*r 245 And oft they call a heart's pearl up to bathe some cherished name. And sometimes too they bring us back deceit in friendship's guise : The shallow thing that comes in spring, and in the winter dies. Whilst pondering on the faded ink, ambition wakes once more; And Hope, exulting, cheers us on, and calls us to the fore; Proud thoughts and noble impulses flash through the joyous mind; But soon they're blown by reason's breath, like thistledown by wind. The bright ideal dreamings fade before the lamp of truth. Ah, still 'tis hard to part with those dear nurslings of our ^'outh. Old letters, oft ye tell us tales of pleasant evenings spent, Where mirth, and wit, and beauty reigned, surrounded by content ! And tender forms are stayed again, and little hands are pressed, And vows are breathed softly too, and sweet lips are caressed, We spell the fond words o'er and o'er, until each sentence seems A passage in some magic book that tells of fairy dreams. 246 '^•^^^•^♦^^.•^^^^^•^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >^4»^5^»5*>5*:>^4*t4»>^>«* Sweet messengers! some of ye crossed the wild expansive foam With throbbings of affection culled from many a breast at Home; The tear-stained paper yet recalls bright eyes that used to oflow With pleasure in our joyousness, and in our grief o'erflow ; The merry haunts of boyhood's days before our visions start — The queen of painters, Nature, finds her easel in the heart. And sometimes in the heap we find a missive edged with o;loom — We open up the envelope, and peep into the tomb; What! have they placed these noble forms to rot beneath the sod? Has Heaven no hiofher mission for the imao^es of God? The spirit gusts that sigh at night through cypress trees, reph-— "The jewel wears no casket in the treasury on high." Old letters! ve are records of events which leave a trace Upon the map of memory, and marching on apace, We often turn and graze across the continents and isles — 9$.-9^^^^mi<*^*^*^-*^*^-^:9^-*>'>0^ OLD LETTERS. ^5*4*-^«4»'«»4»4*-?»-«*'«»-^ 247 Those tracts are robed in sombre hues — these spots are decked with smiles; When evening shades the mountain tops, and twilight shadows swell, Old letters! ye are wizards then, that weave a dreamy spell. t^ '^y^ 1-n. ■■:::'; THE SOUL'S TREASURY. HE heartless miser, mean and cold, May bow before his yellow god, I covet not his fruitless gold, I envy not the selfish clod; I've riches of a brighter stamp Locked in my soul with sacred key, And by the light of mem'ry's lamp I view the wealth God gave to me. Ah! there I keep my jewels rare. And luminous my treasures gleam: My visionary towers are there, Built up in many a happy dream; The kiss that sealed my infant prayer, When first I made my childish plea Unto our Father's throne, is there, Amone the wealth God Qrave to me. Warm beams of love, and rays of truth. And gleams of hope and sparks of thought. •^>*5v>.5>»?>.^>»5.»s>;*5>»^'^»5^»^THE SOUL'S TREASURY. ^-^^^^^^^^ 249 And echoes of the songs of youth, And music in the spring-time caught From warblers wild, that waked the heart To nature's purest minstrelsy: Such blessed gifts are but a part Of all the wealth God gave to me. Among my riches I can trace Impressions of hearts legal and kind, And negatives of many a face In lustrous tabernacle shrined; And there are flow'rets from the tombs Of vanished friends I may not see Till God's eternal lamp illumes The precious wealth He gave to me. But not to you nor me alone The past its soothing sweetness gives, Each soul has coffers of its own Wherein man's better nature lives; Let worldlings hug their earthly gains, They come and go, they fade and flee, Imaoination still remains To euard the wealth God oave to me. II APRIL HERE. AND APRIL THERE/ HROUGH the realms of coral Fairies, Down the ocean's sloping sides, ^ O'er the sea-god's swelling prairies. There are lands where Spring abides, Linnets singing, Blue-bells springing, Fraof ranee meltino- on the air; Friendly meetings, Kindly greetings — April here, and April there. April here is robed in shadows, Heralds of impending gloom; April there sheds o'er the meadows Yellow, white, and purple bloom. Here, clouds flying, Nature sio;hino-, I In 1871 exceedingly rough weather occurred in April. This was an exceptional circumstance as April in New Zealand is generally a very fine month. ^^*^-*^*^^^'»^-*^^*^ AVRIL HERE, AND APRIL THERE. ^4^^^-<«r^^ 2 5 I On her brow a shade of care; Wintry traces, Dreary places — April here, and April there. There, the lark's grand song Is swelling, O'er the blue, ethereal arch; And the am'rous dove is telling Love notes on the elm or larch. Daisies gleaming, Cowslips teeming With rich nectar, pure and rare; Holly shining, Ivv twinincr — April here, and April there. Bursting o'er yon flax-clod mountain. Sadly groans the dark-brow'd blast; Fitful streams from Heaven's fountain, Drivine torrents fierce and fast. Ravines rushing. Rivers gushing. Tall reeds rave in mad despair; Breakers foaming. Ever roaming, April here, and April there. 2^2 '^>.^.^v*;<=^<»5>.^>»?< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^$^'5*>^>5*^4»>«*4»'^>'5*<» April there, warm showers descending, Bearing gifts from heaven to earth; Buds and new-blown roses blending, Thanks to Him who Qrave them birth. Old age talking, Lovers walking, Round the grey stile's mossy stair; Lilac stooping. Lilies drooping — April here, and April there. But we'll have a season here, too, Borne on Earth's prolific breast — Effusive, beautiful, and clear, too, As reigns now where our fathers rest. Darkest sorrow HoDe should borrow — Winter should not bring despair; Spring will follow. Grief is hollow — Look up! the brightest April's there. THE TRAMP OF THE FIRE BRIGADE/ (dedicated to the dunedin fire brigade.) IS grand to hear the trumpet clear, When it calls the soldier on, To prove his might in the held of fight. Where valiant deeds are done; And the gallant tread, of the troops when led, By their leader's flashing blade, Sounds loud and true — but there's music too In the tramp of the Fire Brigade. No prouder tramp In field or camp. On march or on parade. Than the Firemen's tread As they rush a-head, Hurrah for the Fire Brigade. I Muisc by Marcus Hume, Esq. 254 ^^^•^■^^•^■^^•^'*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^*-^^-5*r>^.$^<»r4*2 5/ Then Britain to Freedom said, "Lovinof defender Thy wish is my law, I'm a debtor to thee; Pick out loyal hearts who will honor and tend her, And make my fair daughter a Queen of the Sea. My Celt and my Saxon Shall ne'er turn their backs on The minions of tyranny, envy, or hate. Should they dare assail her, My sons shall not fail her. Their strong^ arms shall fence in thv Southern estate, Thy Southern estate, Thy Southern estate. In majesty rises a bold and a free land. The starry cross glows O'er the unsullied snows That crown her orrand mountains — Hurrah for New Zealand." Oh brothers ! our race has a time-honored stor)-. With pride we look back on the days that are gone; Before us, Fame holds in a halo of glory The map of our future, and beckons us on. The East with its pleasures, The West with its treasures, The North with its lore, on our country shall wait; All freemen shall cheer her; And tyrants shall fear her. For Freedom's at home on her Southern estate, KK 2 :5 8 *5v^^*^^^*?>»^*5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -^^^^^^^^^^^^^^r^^^^^^^*- Her Southern estate, Her Southern estate. In majesty rises a bold and a free land, The starry cross glows O'er the unsullied snows That crown her grand mountains — Hurrah for New Zealand! DUNEDIN FROM THE BAY. ':0, trav'ler, unto others boast Of Venice and of Rome; V Of saintly Mark's majestic pile, And Peter's lofty dome ; Of Naples and her trelHsed bowers; Of Rhineland far away: — 1 These may be grand, but give to me Dunedin from the Bay. H^ A lovely maiden seated in W A grotto by the shore; With richest crown of purest green That virgin ever wore; Her snowy breast bedecked with flowers And clustering ferns so gay, — 260*5^*5-'^^^*^*?-*?-'^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. A^-^4»4»4»4»^m:4:m^4» Go, picture this, and then you have Dunedin from the Bay. A fairy, round whose brilhant throne Great towering giants stand, As if impatient to obey The dictates of her wand; Their helmets hidden in the clouds, Their sandals in the spray — Go picture this, and then you have Dunedin from the Bay. A priestess of the olden time (Ere purer rites had birth) On Nature's altar offering up The homage of the earth; Surrounded by grim Druids, robed In mantles green and grey — Go picture this, and then you have Dunedin from the Bay, O never till this breast erows cold Can I forget that hour, As standing on the vessel's deck I watched the golden shower •5.,^^^.^»j>.»5i.^^^»5>»5^ DUNEDIN FROM THE BAY. ^^-^^^4»Am-f»^»^^ 2 6 1 Of yellow beams, that darted From the sinking king of day, And bathed in a mellow flood Dunedin from the Bay. LIGHT ENOUGH. ^p^ET bards and sages seek for light, I know where kirks the treasured prize; Rays which ilkime the blackest night Flash brightly from my darling's eyes; Through life we all have hills to face, And many a dark and rugged bluff; But I the path of hope can trace, When she is near I've light enough. Philosophers may strive to solve The problem of man's mystic fate. And strain to catch, as they revolve, A glimpse through the eternal gate; The "why and wherefore" let them seek, I'll take the world both smooth and rough. My soul's lit with a dazzling streak When she is near, I've light enough. »5v.^>»=^^5>,.^>»jv»5.»5.»^.»^»^^^-^^ LIGHT ENOUGH. '^'^^5»^*^^'^^^^^<*'^^^ 263 Great minds may climb to Nature's throne, And pluck the secret from her breast, The jewels on her azure zone. Bold giant intellects ma)' test. But I will act my humble part. Though clouds may come and Fate rebuff; Refulgent joy-beams gild my heart When she is near, I've light enough. OUR SPARTAN WALLS- (^^'^^^m. HERE are the walls of Sparta? what ram- parts can she boast? Where are the walls of Sparta? Behold yon sturdy host Whose mighty columns stretch along fair Lacedsemon's vale; There stand the walls of Sparta, and who dare them assail? Lycurgus plann'd those Doric forts, built up of kingly men, To guard the land! — And here we stand as Spartan walls again. Where are the walls of Sparta? Our coasts are fortless, too; What matters that? for here are hearts as dauntless and as true As ever beat in Spartan breasts ; and Freedom here has found A grander clime, a brighter home, a higher vantage ground '»^»5^»^^»^*x-^.»^*^^v»»v»^»^0UR SPARTAN WALLS.-^*-^4»4»-^4*-^<*>^-^2 65 Than ever proud Laconia gave — each hill, and plain, and glen, And dell, and glade for her was made with Spartan walls again. Where are the walls of Sparta? Our rugged mountains rise Their bold, ambitious, hoar-crown'd heads, in grandeur to the skies; Those are old loyal sentinels, that ne'er desert their posts Round Freedom's shrine. But 'fenceless are the gateways of our coasts; No battlements protect our bays, nor fortresses! Why, then. We must resort to living forts, and Spartan walls again! Where are the walls of Sparta, the stronghold and the keep ? The castellated battery to frown across the deep? I see no iron turrets here, no ramparts built of stone! — Behold Zealandia's strong towers of flesh, and blood, and bone, Invincible as those that held the glorious valley when Leonidas stood in the Pass — ^Our Spartan walls again. Where are the walls of Sparta? — Advance our Yeomen! Ho! See! see they rush to guard the land all ready for the foe! No Helots here, the Freeman's seal is stamp'd on every face, These are the trusty guardians of the honor of our race ! Should savage slaves assail us ; to trowel, plough, . and pen We'll bid adieu, for rifles true, and Spartan walls again. LL MEMORIA IN ETERNA. $*->^>5*-5*2 6 7 Call ye the canvas lifeless? — No — Memoria in eterna; Her face is there with a deathless glow, Memoria in eterna; Glorious art, 'twas God that gave The painter's palette and brush to save Faces of fond ones from the sfrave, Memoria in eterna. AFFINITY. ■■irtii '.'^fti^'j^Vf iUR souls are sisters! I have felt a thrill Of wildest joy rush through my every sense, When from thy liquid orbs my soul did fill i\ffection's cup, and quaffing it until Intoxicated with its influence, She offered at thy shrine, heart, mind, and will. Consuming them with passion's fire intense. All souls are kindred ! each a mystic spark, Struck from life's anvil in the forge of God; Each sets aglow its own peculiar clod. And finds a shelter in its mortal ark. But some of these are fashioned in the dark, Mis-shaped, unfinished in the gloom of night, Whilst other frames are moulded in the light, W^ith nobler impress and with brighter mark. The Maker seems unjust in our weak sight, But He knows what is wrong and w^hat is right. Twin sparks, our spirits had together birth — •5>.:^>»5^»5^^»5=.;»?j^v»5v*^.»^^^>5^^#5.-^^»^ AFFINITY. -«»^s*-^>^-^-5«-4«^5»-«»^;*4*«*4*2 69 Yours tarried in the pure celestial way For years, whilst mine descended to the earth, And took upon itself its garb of clay ; Since then, yours followed from the realms of mirth To this strange world, and thus we meet to-day. Thy soul took refuge in a lovely form, My spirit found a rougher dwelling place. But still they're one, impulsive, wayward, warm, Rash, wild, and generous, speaking through the face Their inmost thoughts, which, in life's mazy race, Are leaflets blown about by passion's storm. Not knowing where to rest in tranquil peace, Pursuing a chimera. * * * Souls, be calm, The by-and-by will bring a sure release; I know not what you are, nor what I am, But in that by-and-by our doubts shall cease. LAYS OF THE LITTLE ONES. ii U P-A-D A I S Yr P-A-DAISY! said his mother When the babe was three months old; "Up-a-daisy !" and she'd Hft him From the rug whereon he rolled. Soon the boy began to prattle, And his lips would strive to say "Up-a-daisy!" but he couldn't Master more than "Up-a-day!" "Up-a-daisy!" quaint expression '^ Coined in some old nurse's brain, As she tossed some merry baby Up and down and up again; But our boy, unversed in diction, Takes it in another way — Help, assistance, comfort, succour, Seeks he in his "Up-a-day!" MM 2/4 ♦K^^»5>»^^'^*J-*K MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5*4»>5*-^>«».^4*^>*4» Months flew by — the boy grew stronger : Childhood's httle griefs and cares Marr'd some merry, merry moments; Stupid stools and naughty chairs Would persist in falling o'er him; And, as on the ground he lay, He would kick and scream and scramble — "Mamma, mamma, Up-a-Day!" Onward in the march of progress, Busy hands and toddling feet, Cosy cradle superseded By the cot so snug and neat; Mischief-making little meddler. Wearied out at twilight gray, Clinging to the skirts of mamma: "Me so tired," then "Up-a-Day!' Oh, the golden dreams of childhood! Oh, the visions babies see! After they have lisped "Our Faader," Nodding upon mother's knee; Cares and troubles all forgotten Till the morn's first diamond ray Opes the rosebuds and the red lips. And the eyelids — "Up-a-day!" Once again the little despot Rules the house with iron will, Jumps and crows and screams and scrambles — Not a single moment still; Merry, rippling, silver laughter, Sunshine followed soon by spray, Troubles crowd again upon him — "Mamma, Mamma, Up-a-day!" Now he falls across the fender. Now he tumbles on the stairs, Screams and sobs and runs to mother With his troubles and his cares. "Oh, you naughty boy, what ails you? Sonny, do be quiet, pray! Dere now, dere now, what's the matter?" "Mamma, mamma, up-a-day!" "Papa, turn and play me sojers, Me will shoot oo with my dun." Fierce the onslaught, papa's vanquished. Baby has the victory won. Ah I the fate of war is cruel: Baby's gun breaks in the fray — "Oh! mv dun, mv dun is broken: Mamma, mamma, up-a-da}-? ,.:)" 276 ^*^*i^^^*^*^*^*^^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ■<»^4!r4»4:m^»4»4»^:^4» Babyhood is manhood's mirror: Joys and sorrows, smiles and tears Find their birth-place in the cradle, Growing stronger with the years; "Mother!" is our cry in spring-time; But, when Winter holds his sway, From the depths we raise our voices — "Father, Father, Up-a-day!" Ah! the time will come, my darling, When the hearts that shield thee now Shall be silent, and Time's furrows W^ill leave traces on thy brow; When the shadows fall upon thee Turn thine eyes from Earth away, Lift thy voice and cry with fervour — "Father, Father, Up-a-day!" AMONG THE BUDS. /^;- -^V^^ ;jH! leave the buds alone, |j Baby, % Leave the buds alone; V Each little flow'ret has a heart As pure as is thine own. That violet. My pretty pet, Hath borrowed from the skies Its deepest blue, — The same briorht hue That sparkles in thine eyes; And, just like thee, In purity And beauty it hath orrown; Then leave the buds alone, Baby, Leave the buds alone. 2^8 ■*i'^*^*^^*^*^-*^*^-*>< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^■^'i»^^Aw4!m:^^A» Oh! leave the buds alone; Baby, Leave the buds alone; Those little blossoms are the gems That stud the garden's zone. From bell and cup The sun-sprites sup The nectar and the dew; Each morn the)^ drink From rose and pink Sweet Nature's freshest "brew" Of God's own brand; — Thy tiny hand To playfulness is prone, But do not break the cups, Baby, Leave the buds alone. Oh! leave the buds alone, Baby, Leave the buds alone; They are thy younger sisters, and, Like thee, they have but known The sweets of Spring, When everything Evolves God's purest breath; They have no fear For Autumn's sere, ^»5v*^^5v»5>^#5>»K-»^-#?^»^'^v»^»5v AMONG THE BUDS, ^<*^*4*^5*-^4»-5*^s*i«* 2 / Q Nor Winter's tint of death; Affinity Links them and thee To heaven's eternal throne. Ye are the stainless ones, Bab)-, Leave the buds alone. GOOD NIGHT TO BABY. j HERE is Babe, to-night? I miss him Where is httle Bright Eyes? bless him Bend above his cot and kiss him, Say "good night" to Baby. Say "good night," though he be sleeping, List'ning cherubs will be peeping Through God's windows, fondly keeping Loving watch o'er Baby. They will catch the words with pleasure. Floating downwards through the azure; They will cluster round your treasure, Whisp'ring them to Baby. i:r)®u0h) r)e be sleepir)0, Lisfr)ir)(3 chepufes Will be p@epin»^.»5^»^'#^ MOTHER'S GRAVE. -?*-^^*^<*>5*^<*^^5*<*-<»-^>^2 8 3 And this was the onl)- reph' she gave, "Oh, sir, I am weeding my mother's grave." I asked no more, but turned away From girl, and stone, and mound of clay; I asked no more, for that sentence told Of lonely hearts, and of strangers cold; And then I knelt in an old churchyard, Where one grim elm-tree stood to guard A daisy quilt and a crumbling stone. And I was a child, alone, alone; And the W'ild wind moaned through the ruins old, And the clouds were black and the world was cold, And sadly I heard the weird o-usts rave Through the crumbling walls near my mother's grave. Up on the hill, wdiere beds are made Narrow and deep with pick and spade; Up on the hill, where death-flowers grow. Over a grave a child bent low, Picking the weeds off a new-formed plot; Up on the hill, on a Sabbath morn, (Works of mercy that day adorn), Guardian spirits around the spot. LITTLE VIOLET. .: ^-iy.,L^.^^^ f HE met me on the Qr-arden walk, Her bright eyes filled with mirth and glee, And listening to her prattling talk, My childhood's days returned to me, "And don't you know my name?" she said — "Why, no," I answered, "we've not met Before, my charming little maid;" Then she replied, "I'm Violet." "Indeed; well, that's a pretty name;" I wandered back to sunnier hours, And little Violet became Far fairer than the other flowers That orrew around her where she stood — Each pansy, pink, and mignonette Smiled sweetly at their sister bud, The tender little Violet. i»5v»^-»5v.*5^'^v^.»^'»5^»Sk»~.=^^^>»5k LITTLE VIOLET. -^*>«»4* 285 I gazed into her pure bright eyes, Where nestled childish innocence; Then she, with look so very wise, Took me into her confidence, And told me all her griefs and joys, How babies often scream and fret, How brother robbed her of her toys. And broke the dolls of Violet, How cherries grow upon a tree, How Grandpapa lived far away. Where big ships swim across the sea. And she was going there to stay. Youth's blossom made my heart its bower, But near it sprang the weed — regret; I plucked the weed and kept the flower, And called it — ^lem'rv's Molet. There's rapture in the blithesome time W^hen love inhales young passion's breath — The poet's is a joy sublime. The Christian's happiness is — death. But in pure childhood's thoughtless bliss, A taste of Heaven and earth we sfet — More of the other life than this. Earth's angels are like \ iol^s. THE LAND BEYOND THE SUN. Vf ^TST^^j DEAR little boy with a cherub's face, Stood by the side of his mother's knee, The Sun at the end of his daily race Rested awhile on the crimson sea; Glimpses of Paradise burst through the beams •^[l/ That painted the hills and tinted the bay, The mother was thinking on early dreams, Her pure little innocent prattled away. "The sun is like a orolden ball Dancing on the Ocean's brim, Every eve I watch him fall, How I love to look at him. If upon the shore he'd set. Then to greet him we would run, .^»^*^-^»j^^,H^»^»K THE LAND BEYOND THE SUN. ^^4*4»<*.^^4» 287 And behind him we could o-et, To the land beyond the sun. "Bessy went there, )-ou have said, To obey the Shepherd's will, When she left her little bed Where the flax waves on the hill, And she left the flowers behind, Thoucrh to bloom thev had beo-un, Sweeter roses she must find. In the land beyond the sun. "Mother, if we had a boat, We might cross the crimson track. Round the sun then we could float, And we'd brino- our Bessie back. See, he sets on yonder wave, All his threads of gold are spun. When he sinks into his cave, We might sail beyond the sun." Simple words oft touch love's chord WakinQ^ mem'rv's softest tune. ''Bessie, dear, is with her Lord, We will Q-Q to meet her soon ; 288 ^■*^-*^^-^^-*^-*>< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5*4»-^^^-^4v^4*4v You and I and father, too, Must win the crown that she has won, By and bye we'll journey through To the land beyond the sun." --^- THE BOY AND THE YEAR. (? m ST" mwi ff^ _iV OME out, dear father, come and see this weary-lookinor man ; ^m . . . . ^'i^ His hair is grey and very thin, his face is pale and wan; //.,' i«^ With totterino^ steps he slowly wends '/'^\$W^' his way down yonder hill; The sun is shining warm and bright, and yet he seems quite chill. His eye is dimmed by sorrow, yet he has a kingly mien; I'm sure that he far happier and better days has ^ i * seen. I think I know his features well — and yet it cannot be! Dear father, come and look on him, and tell me who is he?" "My darling boy, you speak aright, we've seen that face before, But then, instead of sorrow's streaks, a cheerful smile it wore. 00 290 ♦5.'^*5^»5!^»5>.»?^^^»x MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5*4*-<*>5*<* ■5*4».«*<»-^ He came to us, 'twill be twelve months ago to-morrow mom; His brow was crown'd with evergreens and sheaves of golden corn ; We welcomed him with open arms, and many a rural game Was played to honour him, for joy and gladness with him came; His eye was filled with manly fire, his breath was fresh and pure; Majestically he stood erect, — his step was firm and sure." "Dear father, I remember him; the morning he came here You kissed myself and Amy, and we christened him New Year; The church bells rang a merry peal, and filled our hearts with orlee — And little Amy laughed; — but now she's gone from you and me. You said that mother* called her to the land beyond the stars. Where angels paint the silver clouds, and forge the golden bars That gird the sun at eventide: — but New Year must have known That Amy meant to leave us here in sorrow all alone." "My darling boy, the New Year had a mission to fulfil — Our Supreme Master sent him here to do His holy will; ♦^»^.^»^.,»5.»^.^.^*5=-^^ THE BOY AND THE YEAR. -^-^-^-^4*>5«>5*4* 29 I With smiles for some, and tears for more — 'tis sinful to complain, For pleasure would engender pride unless subdued by pain. If )'on bright orb shone constantly, and never hid his light, We'd soon get weary of his rays, and wish for sable night ; If those sweet roses blooming in the garden ne'er decayed, Their fragrance would be wasted, and their loveliness would fade." "But, father, I am thinking still that New Year was to blame; Deceitful smiles were on his face the mornino- that he came. He fondled our dear Amy, and she sang to him so gay: He should have told us that he meant to take her far awa)'. The night she left us, father dear, I thought my heart would break; You said she only was asleep, — that soon she would awake; But months have passed, and still she slumbers in the narrow cave. Beneath the pretty pansies that we planted on her grave." "The year is not to blame, my son, for wheresoe'er he walks. Behind his back, with mocking strides, a ghastl)' spectre stalks; Who crushes oft the fairest flowers until their leaves are dead — Their essence he can not destro)-, for, soaring o'er his head, A lovely Angel gathers up the fragrant balm, and pours 292 *K-»^-^.^#?>»5>.»5v^^o»5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^-^4»^4!^4»»^»5v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. «*^*^^-^^5*4»-5*r4*^^4» The magpie's notes at early dawn, Which used to wake our pretty fawn, Remind us that our love light's gone — At morn we miss our darlino:. At night we hear the gum-leaves stir, Whilst listening to the 'possum's burr, 'Tis wearisome when wanting her — Ah! then we miss our darling. A big, brown snake", one sultry noon, Played with her near the broad lagoon. At our approach he vanished soon. But left unhurt our darling. She followed him with childish mirth, Wliich told us she was not of earth; A charm hung round her from her birth; The anofels watched our darlinQf. I Snakes have been known in Australia to nestle beside children, and even to climb on to their laps without harming them. ^vi^^»?>»?.*5.:^^^^*x^-*5>»j^ OUR LITTLE DARLING. -^4*<*--«*4*-«*4*4*>5» 295 She brought from homes where seraphs stay, To gild our hearts a golden ray; It shone a short, short summer day, Then faded with our darling. Her time with us, alas! was short; From paradise came this report — "A cherub strayed from Heaven's court. Give up your little darling." Her tiny feet have left no print. Her rosy cheeks have left no tint; God wanted treasure in His mint, And took our little darlino^. c^j,yAaic^ m ANGEL S' FEATHERS. ;^SAW the snow fall, with my childhood's vision; My soul leaped back unto its fresher clay, Though manhood mock'd me, in its cold derision, .^ And knowledge laugh'd too, in its sober day ; 'Tis not the wind's wail, but some spirit sighing, That through the crannies now so weirdly sings — 'Tis not the snow-drift, now above me flying. But feathers falling from the angels' wings. Light fancy flies far from the realm of reason, And revels wildly in its young conceit — Oh! sweet deception, thou art harmless treason, Oh! sacred privilege, at times to cheat Hard-grained reality and stern worldly duty — To touch life's harp upon its sweetest strings, Oh! trance of gladness, and bright dream of beauty, Oh! feathers falling from the angels' wings. f ^*^v J IS r)0t ibe snoW-dpift ooW €ih@^e me flying, Jd ut feafl}@rs follinq jroiT) l4)e angels' Winqs :»5..^^.*^^,^.^.;»5^-»5.»5v»5>»^.,=^ ANGELS' FEATHERS. -$*-^5*^-5*^^5»<*->«*-4*>^-^2 9 / Proud seers survey the outside of creation. But cannot peer beyond the azure wall; Their lamp, compared to young- imagination, Is but a little rush-liorht after all. The child is lord of all the realms of wonder, For him alone the tempest-giant swings Red bars of lightning and black bolts of thunder; He sees the feathers fall from angels' wines. Rail, if it please you, at each fond illusion, — Witch'd by their glamour we were nearer God; Our sight was clearer ere the spirit's fusion With rougher wisdom in a coarser clod! Ere mind was wed to the prosaic real, Our inspiration came from purer springs; Snow was not snow then, in those dreams ideal, But feathers fallinof from the angels' wines. We rise to manhood, in the eves of saees. We're day by day evolving something new. And year by year we're mounting higher stages! We fall from childhood, in the poet's view. The storm of life sweeps through the young plantations, And from youth's mount to manhood's vale it brings Hope's blossoms, blown with withered aspirations, To fall like feathers from the aneels' wines. pp BUSH CHILDREN. I YES of hazel and of blue, Raven locks and golden tresses, Lips of rosy-tinted hue Pouting for the fond caresses, ar Laughter filling hearts with joy, As the merry moments whirl, 'f^ Father loves his manly boy, Mother dotes upon her girl. Gambollincr across the o-lade, I sporting through the tea-tree mazes, Resting 'neath the wattle's shade, When the summer's red sun blazes; Fondling the dear pet lamb, Patting Bob, the sleek old coley. Teasing Bill, the aged ram. Driving Redman, Sam, and Poley. ^«s,^<»5>.#Sv■#5^■^<^^•»5v,:»K»?>»5v^^v♦$^BUSH CHILDREN. "^^.^^^^^W'^^^-^v^^-^i^^^^* 299 Seeking for the 'possum's nest, In the wrinkled box-tree hollow; Breaking in upon his rest, "Let him run, and Pinch will follow." Hunting for the hidden sweets Where the wild bush-bees are humming; Listening for the cheerful bleats When the shepherd home is coming. "Willie, give the lads a call, We must have a game at cricket; Jack and you can stop the ball, I will stand to guard the wicket." Play your games, you merry crew, Now's the time for recreation, By-and-by there's work to do, You have yet to build a nation. ><-/, f;v 'V POEMS AND ADDRESSES. efe_^;^_^_^?3__£'^_^__^^_J^__6fe_^S_J^?3__^^_^__^__^;|_^^ /^f zi^ 'i$i ^ i/) 1^ ip t^s ~^ 5^3 ^ ^p t,;^ J,^ s^ -^i^- t,p £,:^~s;^~^ 's;^~^>i c;^ s,:F\ K A I T A N G ATA. On the 2 1 St of February, 1879, a colliery explosion took place at the Kaitangata Mines, by which thirty lives were sacrificed. HE touch of God is on the chord which runs Through all humanity, from heart to heart; The Hand Divine, that holds the stars and suns, Strikes on love's string, and inner voices start, Proclaiming we are each of each a part. The Priest of Nature may expound this truth; Afflictions are but solemn lessons read To mortals; Science still is in her youth — 304 ^*i^^^*^*^'*^-*^*^'*^ jNIUSINGS in MAORILAND. •4*«4»>«*-4*'4*--^>5*>5*<*-«* The living gain their knowledge through the dead; All human suff'ring points the road ahead. It may be so; anon we'll learn that text, But noW' the widows' and the orphans' eyes Are followinof from this life to the next Loved spirits torn away from dearest ties, And God to us is speaking through their cries. He calls on us to succour those in need; We're bound together in a common bond. Faith's purest action is a noble deed; Hope's truest anchor is a helping hand; Love is the key that opes the doors beyond. A few short days ago, and those who rest Held this poor lease of earth which now we hold; The pulse of life beat strongly in each breast — Ah! 'tis the same old story often told, We know not when the spark may leave the mould. Oh! brothers, there are weary hearts to-day, And cheerless homes, where sorrow sits in gloom; And lonely weeping ones, who can but pray, "Thy will be done," whilst bowing to their doom, And longing for the meeting 'yond the tomb. Not ours to change the mystic second-birth, Not ours to bring the loved ones back again, But ours to do our duty upon earth. By succouring the mourners who remain; To them we're Hnked in sympathetic chain. To-day Humanity's resistless breath Sweeps through the credal barriers, and brings Us all toorether to the Church of Death — The common fold of toilers and of kings; And Charity broods o'er with outstretched wings. To-day the pure Christ-Spirit from above With warm vibration thrills through every soul; To-day we owe a sacred debt to Love; To-day our Father claims a special toll At gates which lead to Hope's eternal goal. iSL ^, ^^iSr^^H^' -"" QQ LONGFELLOW. ; HE minstrel's voice is songless now, Death's stamp is on that honour'd brow; No dirge for him, no sigh nor tear: We'll shout above the poet's bier — Excelsior ! He swept his harp-strings clear and strong Till trees became alive with song, And every trembling leaflet stirred To music at his maoic word — Excelsior ! He touched a chord, and on the scene Appeared the fair Evangeline In Norman cap and girtle blue, Acadie's virgin pure and true — Excelsior! ^»K^>-*^^>.^«>»5>.^>.»5''^^*A»*^^»?>.^^ LONGFELLOW. -^.4*4*^5»v5*.<*><*4*.<*>««>^ ^O/ He peopled Strasburg's lofty spire With spirits from the realms of fire, Then put a soul in every bell To triumph o'er the powers of hell — Excelsior! Across the harp his fingers ran, And Plymouth's martial Puritan Stepp'd into life, and madly strove With Alden in the ^ame of love — Excelsior! He struck out, as he passed along, From sledge and anvil sparks of song, Until the forofe 'neath chestnut-tree Was filled with manly minstrelsy — Excelsior! He gathered from the Northland plains Old echoes wild of Indian strains ; He beautified the songs of yore, Then a-ave them to the woods once more- Excelsior! 308 '^#5>.^*K»5>»^^#5^#?^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. A»-4»-<»'^4M4:m4:m:^^»4:*:Am He gave new music to each rill, He clothed the prairie and the hill With rich romance; each forest pine Shook with new melody divine — V Excelsior ! A grand old bard, with spotless page. An honour to his land and aoe, Full ripe for Heav'n, has passed away; And Nature sings above his clay — Excelsior! DAVID LIVINGSTONE. [p';OWN many a giant stream, whose place of } birth II Lies hidden in the distance from our ken, '^^^llAnd from the nooks and corners of the earth, Where darkness shrouds the souls of savao^e men, A dirge steals softly on the breath of night. Which tells us of a noble spirit fled To find the mystic source of truth and light, And read the book that mortals have not read. Where shall we meet with courage true and grand As that which stayed the brave old wanderer's heart? Home, pleasure, friendship, love, and native land He left, to trace the world's mysterious chart. 3IO'^»5v^i^»?>»x»5v»^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^4*-^^4*4*4*-^4*^ Adown the valleys where Zambesi runs — Along the Nile, and by Nyassa's lake, To Earth's degraded and benighted sons He brought the peaceful words which Jesus spake. The tameless Berber reins his steed to gaze With wondering pity on that tranquil face; The grateful Ethiopian chants the praise Of him who brought "glad tidings" to his race. When Livingstone is named, what fool shall dare To boast of war's red tyrants, robed in blood, Who sacrifice their serfs for vultures' fare, Who call it glory, to give ravens food? When battle trumpets sound, and banners stream, The mad blood flies to the enthusiast's brain, And where the war drums roll, and sabres gleam, His fiery spirit seeks the purple plain. The yeoman, fenced within his narrow home. Bursts the old links and seeks for freer skies; Nor fears to cross the ever-shifting foam, Hope tells his heart he goes to win a prize ♦5.,»5s..^-^>..^,^»^*^-»j.»^„5>.'^v DAVID LIVINGST0NE.^^-^^^*^^-^-<*^^^*^*^3I I But this ereat man left all wealth's Q-jfts behind — Ease could not bind him to his native shore; His bosom glowed to benefit his kind, To bear off knowledge and return with more. He marched through trackless wilds and deserts drear, Although Death's footsteps dogged his every pace; The cause he lived for shielded him 'gainst fear, His soul could meet the Spectre face to face. Array the Monarch's dust in pomp and pride, Whilst flatterers his doubtful virtues sing: A erander death this orreat old victor died Than England's boldest Duke or bravest King. No cultivated sigh, nor polished tear Bedecks the couch whereon the hero sleeps; A purer tribute falls upon his bier, For lo! above his corse the savage weeps. SIR GEORGE GREY. ITHIN a forest stood a grand old tree, Whose head above the other plants rose high; He was the forest's first-born. Sun and sky Had known him, and had smiled on him ere he Had kinsfolk near, or leafy brethren nigh; The wild birds broug^ht to him their minstrelsy ; The sinofers knew that when the scene w^as rude. He orrew and (jave a shelter to their race. By him the wandering melodists were wooed To trill and warble in that lonely place; A sanctuary in the solitude He o-ave to them, hi him the birds could trace The forest's king, and so from hills and plains They flew to him, and sang their sweetest strains. /C£)ir G[aor(^5*->^^5*^4*-4*^4^^*4*><^<* Far beyond yon curtains, shrouding Distant Ocean's restless brim — Where the quaint grim shadows crowding Float o'er \vat'ry valleys dim — Sits the Emerald Oueen of Islands Chanting lonely sorrow's wail! From her ancient vales and highlands Comes his story on the gale. Comes his story, — Ah! we knew it. When his hand had work to do. He was ready there to do it, Firm and fearless, tried and true. From his Island Mother olden. Sailed away the upright man; Fair young Austral', warm and golden. Called him to her people's van. From the ranks the leader vanished. Fighting still the people's fight; Still his name, unstained, unbanished, Lives a talisman of miMit. ^9^*^'^:^<<>^9^^<*^*K^^v.*^'*^-<^s WILSON GRAY, -^-^♦r-^-^-^-^*-^*--^-^-^^*^*' 7^1 Z Spirits of the old Convention — - Ye who still retain your clay — Doff your hats whene'er ye mention Such a name as W'ilsox Gray. Island of the rus^ofed forehead, There is gloom upon thy breast. Justice! Death from thee has borrow'd One who wore thy speckless crest. Nay, Death has not left thee lonely; Thou hast brighter circuits still, Here, thou art a pilgrim only, For thy home is on the hill. Ah 'tis little that we know here — From its cage escaped the dove. From the Judgment Seat below here, To the Judgment Seat above. Bear him on there's no recedino;'; Death is but a mystic span ThrouQ;h eternal arches leadinQ^ To the higher spheres of Man. -7.1 6 •^*^'*^*^^^*^*^'*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -^^-^^«-s*r^^4»<^-^-<» Where Earth's brightest gems shall cluster Fired with everlasting youth, Basking in celestial lustre O'er the firmament of truth. Onward still Hope's beacon flashes In the palaces afar; And the spark that fled these ashes There shall shine a golden star! Bear him proudly on your shoulders- Good men's deeds are never dead 'Tis a sacred corse that moulders — Bear him proudly to his bed. ?ri^,. OCONNELL. [Born August 6, 1775.] OME )e whose spirits are unfettered, )e Who dare to burst the trammels of the past, Ye, who obey the Man-God's golden rule, v.^ .v a€ ^^iv^y^^^M>:^^. By CTrantino^ others what ye claim \-our- selves ! Come ye whose fathers fought for Conscience sake, On England's plains and Scotia's rugged hills. Come all who worship at the sacred Shrine Of Liberty! Come freemen, one and all, Of every race and . clime and creed upon This oval Planet's surface! Come with me. And let's unlock the casket which contains That jewel rare — a great man's memory. ■^ 1 8 »5^*?c^c^<^^^v»3>'#5^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >$*f-^-s*-.<»-4^4*-4«r4v«»r4*^ A hundred years to-day, in that fair Isle — Which as an em'rald ornament is set Above Atlantic's palpitating heart, The Power Supreme, who guides Creation's works, And moulds His creatures' destinies at will, Looked down wdth pity on an enslav'd race, And bid a Giant live, to rend their chains. Then Freedom soared above Killarney's lakes. And breathed on wild Magillicuddy's Reeks, And in the peaceful home of Derrynane, That nestles in the arms of Kerry's hills, The Liberator of his land was born. A hundred years to-day! — look back with me Across the gulf, and note how times have changed! The crouching bondsman on the other side Bends low with forced submissiveness, nor dares To look up to his Maker, save by stealth! 'Tis crime in him to call his soul his own. But lo! between the banks of Now and Then, A chieftain stands, with head erect and proud. Clad in the armour of a righteous cause. And fighting with those weapons of the just — The "Voice and Pen," and as his glowing words Rush up to Heaven, slumbering Justice wakes. . •5v»5>*5v»$v*^#?<»^»=,.»^^»j>.»js,.»j^.»5>..,*^ O'CONNELL. -^*;<»<*>5»-«»4»-«*-^-4w>5».4«-<» 3 I Q A hundred years to-day! the time seems short, And yet within that century the Earth Has changed her face, for Pioneers of Right Have hewn away the rotten trunks of Wrone That grew upon her breast, and sapped the springs Of nutriment from out her bosom's core, 'Till all her weaker plants could scarcely live; And in the vanguard of that noble host O'Connell stood, — the people's crownless King, Pointing in triumph to the tracks he'd cleared To Paradise, where souls might freely soar The way which pleased them best, to meet their God. Oh! Brothers, we are privileged to hold The first position in the ranks of Light, The nations we are building in the South Can rear their golden heads on high, and boast That all their children, — sprung from every race — Have equal rights to chant Jehovah's praise As suits their choice, and Brothers, we are proud Of our unsullied charter, and we're proud Of all the noble and unselfish men Who fought in bye-gone years for human rights ; And this is why we twine our wreaths of song. And weave our garlands 'round O'Connell's name. ROBERT BURNS. (114TH Anniversary.) L ROUD glory's wreath may crown the warrior'^ urn, -~^And victory's trophies rise above his dust, Fame's torch awhile may o'er his ashes burn, jl But time will quench it and his sword shall rust. A orrateful nation o'er the statesman's tomb May trumpet forth his labors in her cause; But other lights her councils may illume. And time's progressive wheel roll o'er his laws. But who, or what, can shroud the poet's fame? Whilst Nature's mighty form towers over art, No power on earth can blot his sacred name When once 'tis written on his country's heart. •5..»?<^<»5>»5>»J,:^!^^^v»?>»5v»5^^^v^»*. ROBERT BURNS. .^>^-^-5*-^4*4»>^-^-^ 3 2 I I love thee, England, for thy manly race; My native land I love thee for thy wrongs; Clime of the barren brow and ruo;"Q^ed face — Scotland! — I love thee for thy deathless songs. Well may'st thou point with triumph and with pride Unto thy patriot heroes of the past ; Well may'st thou tell the nations how they died. That liberty might breathe thy northern blast. But there's a son of thine, whose genius sheds More lustre round thee than thy bravest king; Thy torrents rushing from their mountain beds Till Nature's voice is mute, his praise shall sing. For thee he struck a chord, whose masfic strain Rings through thy children's hearts o'er all the earth, And links them in a fond magnetic chain Whose loadstone is the island of their birth. To Nature's throne he offered heartfelt praise — He scourged hypocrisy with satire's rod; In stirring tones he called on man to raise His head erect, a reflex of his God. ss 322 '•s^-#^^<*5^^^*^^c»5< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. '^^-^'^-^^^•^♦^^♦v^-^*^^* He robbed the angels of their sweetest notes; And when descending through the speckless dome He caught the echoes of the lavrock's throats, And brought them to thy peasant's humble home. Roll on Old Earth unto thy final goal, As o'er each century thine axle turns, New wreaths of song shall blazon music's scroll, As tributes to the memory of Burns. • ,--i JAMES MACANDRE W/ HY should our sonofs be sad? He needed rest; He was afield among the pioneers W^'k-tr !iV/ Who watched at daybreak on the mountain's crest The golden dawning of a nation's years. He was the foremost 'mong the sturdy band Who breasted dangers in the early days To found new homes; his was the head that plann'd The super-structure upon which we gaze. Behold the noble city towering high Above the silver mirror framed in green! How chang'd the prospect now since first his eye Glanced hopefully around the silent scene. 1 Father of the New Zealand House of Representatives. 324 '•3^*5-»5>*5^^»»'^-:»^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >«»-4*^4»--5*--4*^4*^4*^5*^4*^4*- The virgin forests, wrapt in deep repose, Lay on the bosoms of the ancient hills, Adown whose sides the sun-enfranchised snows Roll'd into liquid song in founts and rills. The fertile plains and valleys were asleep, No plough-share yet had stirr'd the quiet sod; Earth hugg'd her secret treasures hidden deep; The noon-day rays had kiss'd no kindling clod. When came the pilgrims to the promised land. With hearts prepared to dare and hands to do. They needed but a ruler to command. And found in him a leader staunch and true. Here was a land with Nature's gifts endow'd, A new Canaan needing sturdy men; The trunk that now lies still, rose strong and proud, And stood an oak among the saplings then. He set the pulse of Progress beating high, And laid the firm foundations of a State ; His were the thoughts that ever onward fly With lighting speed, to make a people great. ^^v^c^K^^^^^-^v^^v^^^^v^^^^K JAMES MACANDREW. >«»-^-<«<*-^-5»4»r-^.^-^ 325 He beckon'd Commerce with her steam and sails, And to our lovely bay fleet followed fleet; He summoned Industry to bring her bales And lay them down at young Edina's feet. He waved his wand, and at the touch of toil Were opened the prolific pores of earth; Flocks roam'd the hills, and, turning up the soil. The ploughman told his joy in songs of mirth. He saw the primal seed-time in the land, He watch'd the first green corn that dress'd the plain; He saw the sickle in the reaper's hand That gather'd in the first ripe sheaves of grain. Why should our songs be sad? Tears are for those Who live in vain and die with lands untill'd. And not for him who sows and reaps, and goes To peaceful sleep with all his tasks fulfilled. He needed rest, he work'd an honest day, The harvest fruits are o-arnerd once apfain; 'Tis meet that he should now receive his pay: The Master knows His best and truest men. MRS. GEORGE DARRELL \^»^»k-^>.-^o»5v^>:»5k MRS. GEORGE DARRELL. •^•r^-^*-**^*^-^-?*-^ 3 2 / "'Tis but one cast away, and so — Come death." Not cast away, fair Rosalind, but blest With richer garlands than Orlando's wreath, Among- the proves of everlasting^ rest. "So speaking as I think, alas! I die — " Again we hear the plaudits — cheer on cheer; "Bravo, Emilia!" is the shout and cry, Whilst gentle eyes are filled with many a tear. "Sweets to the sweet" — ay, strew the fiow'rets o'er Her royal mantle; — it has changed to green. Hamlet, thy mother is, alas ! no more ; 'Tis not Ophelia sleeps, but Denmark's Queen. "Sir, grieve not you." Nay, Portia, I but pay The debt which I, and tens of thousands, owe To Art and thee; above thy sacred clay I weave a sfarland for the lonsf agfo. The brave old long ago, that free old time, When manly hearts were often cheered by thee. When Austral revelled in her golden prime, And nursed Thalia and Melpomene. T.2S ^*s^*^^*^^*^*^*^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. .4«c4«^%«r<*'«w-^4*4«'«« Old forms arise — Brooke, Lambert, Rogers, Heir, And others who have answered to the Call; They're at the Treasury — thou'rt with them there; Turn down the footlights — let the curtain fall. GEORGE ELIOT. NOTHER leader lost! Thus speaks the \yire — The wire that M^hispers softly 'neath the wave. Another teacher gone; the golden lyre, Whose every string was fraught with sacred fire, Lies silent now beside a new-made o-i*ave. Another leader lost! The message sped From England's chalky cliffs to every shore Where mind is fetterless, and men have read The bright and tuneful thouo;;hts of her who led The league of light, of letters, and of lore. Another leader lost! The mao^ic hand That shaped the offspring of the quick'ning brain Is pulseless now, and all the perfect band Of her sublime creations mourning stand Around the tomb — she's gone, but they remain. TT 330 »x^c»>v»^*?^»5>,^^^^v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >5*4»^^>5»^*^5*^5*4*4*4» Another leader lost! The wealth of mind, And affluence of orenius that illumined Our later times have left their source behind; The strongest, yet the sweetest, of her kind Is but a name — the rest has been entombed. Another leader lost! Trust not the cry; The whisp'ring wire can tell us no such tale; It speaks but of the casket, — let it lie, That which it held within can never die, For Truth is clothed in eternal mail. ADAM LINDSAY GORDON. M . A /. A /. /f A A/. / 1 /IZSj, OME, ye winds, and chant sad dirges, Where the restless billows roam. ! And the sand-banks kiss the verpfes a! ;t4M^^^-:^- Of the ever-shifting- foam. Sweisp along the Ocean slowly, For a Bard is resting near, And his harp is lying lowly hi the shadow of his bier. Sobbing through the tea-tree bushes, Low and tender, loud and wild, Melancholy music gushes — Pensive Nature mourns her child. 232 •^•^•?.*?.»5-^#?>.^<»5v MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -^-^-5*4*>5*-?»<*>«*^'«* He her secrets could unravel, He had read her mystic page; Oft with her his soul would travel, Bursting from its earthly cage. He rode on the tempest's pinions, When the sheets of molten gold Flashed across her broad dominions, And the drums of heaven rolled. He smiled witli her in her gladness, He wept with her in her gloom — Until Sorrow, linked with Madness, Tore the curtain off the tomb. Censure not the frenzied action; He but plunged where all must halt Goaded on by fierce distraction — His the secret, his the fault. Rest him where the ocean plashes To the moaning of the wind; Death but robbed us of his ashes — He has left his thouQ^'hts behind. AN EXILE'S REVERIE/ ,f?#^:^\^. HERE Taieri sweeps by Manitoto's plain A Scottish exile sang this fond refrain, Each lonely winding glen and snowcapped mount Awoke the slumbering Spring of Memory's fount, Before his gaze old places came and went, And thus the language of his heart found vent. From these wild mountains, crowned with crystal hoar, thoughts are wafted o'er the moaning sea; Unchecked, untrammelled by the Ocean's roar, They wing their flight, clear Caledon, to thee; The w^ieel of Time has rolled o'er many a year, And often have I heard Death's mournful knell. I Prize Poem of the Caledonian Society of Otago, 1869. 334 '•5^-^^^>»5^^<*5^^^-*>. MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. v5*r^»r^>5*-^>^-^4»^5*4* Since on thy shore I shed the parting tear And bade thy noble cHfis a long farewell. Yet in my dreams I see each youthful scene, Old forms and faces meet my eye; again I mingle with my schoolmates on the green, Or gather berries in the briery lane. The heather smells as sweet as when I strayed To worship Nature o'er the purple hill. And still, unchanged, the waving brackens shade The murmuring burn that turns the village mill, The old kirk seems the same, as when of yore, I offered up my Sabbath morning's prayer To Him whom all creation should adore. Ah! where now are the friends that worshipped there.'* My dream is past. It stands not morning's test, Stern truth, with mocking finger points around. And whispers, "All the loved ones are at rest — They sleep beneath each daisy covered mound." This vain deceitful slumber often cheats, By making us appear what we have been, The furure's left, the past at daylight fleets; The wide, dark gulf of Time rolls on between. Ah, Time, what shall I call thee? how address The conqueror of kings, the sinner's dread — Death's courier — swift, sure, and merciless; Man's mockino^ Qruide unto his narrow bed. Nations and Empires have come and gone; Imperial Rome has fallen to the dust. Regardless of events, thou movest on; ^♦^;^«^,»5>»5^^»K^c^.;^»^»5^^s< AN EXILE'S REVERIE. >5*<*^*-5»r4»-4^4»^<*r4^ ^35 Thy blade is still unstained by mould or rust. Age after age humanity hath paid Mortality's inevitable tithe; And still the ghastly tyrant wields his spade: Still millions fall before thy ceaseless scythe. Oh who, unmoved, can look upon thy page, And trace thee from Creation to the Flood — From thence unto the present? At each stage, Thy sandals have been wet with tears and blood. Forward to chaos! thou canst not turn back; Procrastination lingers in thy train, Fire, plague, and famine desolate thy track. And countless souls cry after thee in vain. Yet all's not dark upon thy changeful face: When thou wert in thy prime, a Saviour came To wash out, with His life drops, man's disgrace: Thy brightest scroll records His sacred name. And when Europa's shores refused to }-ield Employment to the hardy sons of toil, And poverty appeared, thy hand unveiled New climes where plenty rested on the soil. The Golden South, washed by Pacific's spray. Calls thousands from the Old World's crowded marts To fertile plains, where fame and fortune stay Awaitino^ willino- hands and orallant hearts. Yet fond remembrance clasps the Exile's heart, It haunts him still upon this distant strand; Within his breast, pure warm emotions start When thouo-hts are kindled there of Fatherland. 336 ^^♦^'^■•5>.-^^*5v*^*?< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -^4*r.5*r<*<»4«4*-^4*-<*- Here, in Young Scotia, we have glens and hills, As wild and grand as those we left at home; Our pastures are as green, as clear our rills, Our coasts are guarded by as fierce a foam. O'er cliffs and crags, ravines and lowly dells, Borne on the clouds, wild, weird romance looks down; And Poesy, Heaven's purest offspring, dwells Heedless of Cynic's sneer or Stoic's frown. What lack we then, in this new land of ours? Why come old memories on the midnight blast, To woo us back to childhood's happy hours. And let us taste delio^ht that cannot last? Why does the eagle, ere he speeds away, Wheel round his eyrie with an anxious care? WHiy lingers he, for yonder is his pre}'? Ah! by a mother he was sheltered there. Why do the bright Spring morning's sparkling showers Ascend on Sol's warm rays again from earth; Why do they leave the lovely buds and flowers? Because they cling to Heaven, their place of birth. And thus it is with man. Where'er he strays On distant plains, he turns his longing eyes To that dear spot, veiled by the ocean's haze. Where fancy .whispers him the old land lies. The ideal mirror shows to Albion's son His home surrounded by the leafy dells; From wood and copse he sees the streamlets run, Endeared to him by recollection's spells. The Emigrant from Erin's spray-girt isle ■^♦K^^v»^»5>;^>»x^.»^#jv-»^ AN EXILE'S REVERIE. >^^*4*r4*4*-<^4*4*-^ T^T^J Oft hears her wild Harp singing on the breeze; Its mournful cadence steals a tearful smile And wafts it to the old home o'er the seas. Then Scotia, land of legendary lore, Can thy fond children cease to honor thee? Nursed on the bosom of thy rugged shore, higratitude shall never come from me; Our new land is a reflex of thy face. Its features in the same rough mould were cast. Yet, unlike thee, Tradition finds no place, A cloud of Barbarism shades the past; No Wallace here to kindle Freedom's fire — No Bruce to light the patriotic flame — No Burns, to strike the grand melodious Lyre- — No Scott, to trumpet forth his country's fame — . No Bard of Hope, no Ettrick Shepherd, here; No Ferguson, no plaintive Tannahill — Hush! Scotia's spirit drops a burning tear; The precious pearl thaws Death's dark frozen chill. Hark to her voice: "Poor mortal. Time can not Efface the memory of the great and good; They live within the breast of each true Scot, Thouq-h far he roams across the Qriant flood. The gems that sparkle o'er the azure span That Heaven's Architect has built on hieh. Recede at dawn from the rude gaze of inan, Yet still, unquenched, they sparkle in the sky. And thus it is that bards and heroes stay A time below here, to illume mankind, uu 338 ♦5»»J>»5^*?>»^*?-»5v»K MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. -4»4».4»^>^4»-«*^5*=AA '-J K •:- 4 /■^Y^YWWWWW'^f \ ffYWWWW¥TTWW¥fWWWTrYr'rfTvTfWW'f'WTf\ THE SAIGE O'TIMARU. ^- N anshint ages, whin Homer's pages Gave all the stages o' the Saige o' Throy; When false Queen Helen, wid bosom swellin', hi love, sure, fell in wid the Throjan boy; ff^l^'^""'^ The wars were gory, for death or glory, So runs the story, they millions slew. [j^vc Be sure 'twas play, boys, unlike the fray, boys, . The other day, boys, at Timaru. A, The grand directhers av the Orange Victhors, Y (Ye've seen the picthers av King Billy's horse), Addhressed the brith'in: — -"We'll have a gith'rin, An bouldly march out, brave boys, in foorce, Wid lovely sashes an' soords that flashes, We'll cut fine dashes in full review; We'll have an airin' wid banners rarin', All dangers darin' through Timaru." :^,j^2 ^.^^c^»?>.-^*?>»5.^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^4»^'^4»'^^4»^ Och, blur-an-OLins, boys, it wint the rounds, boys, Wid shouts an' bounds, boys, aitch ha)TO green, From glin an' nook, a-round be llniuka Prepared to march to the battle scene; Aitch Mick or Pat, he brought stick or bat he Got a Waimate — ^yer sowls, huroo! — Then marchin' proudly, an' yellin' loudly, The boys assimbled in Timaru. The grand paradins, an' fine procaidins Av the Orange hayros was the battle sign; No word they utthered, but King Billy flutthered On yallow banners along the line. Prepared for slaughther, they played "Boyne Wather," Och, mailie-muther an' pillill-u-u, Kings James's throops, boys, wid yells an' whoops, boys. Rushed up in groups, boys, at Timaru. They formed a square, boys, in front an' rair, boys, Begog, 'twas quare, boys, to see thim stand; An' one bould head-man, wid hair so red, man. Got up an' sed, man, unto his band: "Look here, be jabers, me dacint naybors, Ther soords an' sabers will niver do. It's no use talkin' we'll stop their walkin', Ther colour-hawkin' through Timaru. .^.^.^^>»5v#^»5^^K^«»5.»5^^< THE SAIGE O' TIMARU. -«*''^-^»^<«4»-«*<«'^'^ 343 A bould Cromwellan, of powdher smellin' With fury swellin', dhrew forth his blade, An' swore he'd skiver the "Papish" Liver That daar'd to stop him on his grand parade; A black Sir Knight, boys, prepared to fight, boys, 'Gainst green an white, boys, for red an' blue. He'd stand alone, boys, an guard the throne, boys, So bould, mavrone, boys, at Timaru. The Peeler squadhron (they're always botherin') Wid rayinforcements came on the ground; Inspecthor Pindher, that bould defindher, Look'd mighty fierce, boys, as he gallop'd round. Ses he: — "Be quiet, don't raise a riot, For I defy ye to mischief brew; Don't rise our ire, or we'll have to fire, So plaise retire from Timaru. The divil a harm he done to the army, King James's foorces began to dodge; King William's laygion, wid the battle raygin'| Inthrinched their squadhrons beyant the lodge; The foorces sundhered, an' the cannons tundhered, An' the people wondherred, as the bullets flew, In Imaginashun an' disperashun, For ricrayashun at Timaru. ^44 ^^^s^^'^^^^s^;^**^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^m^^^^^^^^^ Och the wounds an' bruises, me gintle muses, Bedad refuses for to indite; The deeds so famous, done for King Shamus, An' how his army won in the light; They're crowned wid glory in fame's bright story. The kilt an wounded an' the slain an slew, Will live for ages in histh'ry's pages. Whilst battle rashes at Timaru. ■ll,:^^..^>;^^>.,^.^ THE LEYGIND O' TERRY M'KOW. ^-^^/^A^^i^^^^ 347 But one day in summer the snow on the mountains Got friskey an' rouUed down the gullies in floods, An' fierce torrents roared where there used to be fountains, And Terry had no time to put on his duds; The poor boy was just about wettin' his throttle Whin clane off his feet he was swept by a bough That floated along — still he stuck to the bottle, An' clung to the brambles, brave Terry M'Kow. On, on to the Ocean bould Terry was taken, But just near the beach he got stuck on the bar, (He coulden't get past it). While shiverin' an' shakin' The boy was picked up by a kind-hearted tar \\ ho chanced to pass by an' obsarved Terry shiver — "Ho! messmate ahoy!" ses he, "cling to the prow." "O thank ye," says Terry, "bad luck to that river, We'll call it in fuchure the Terry M'Kow." THE PRINTER'S STICK. (a typographical lyric.) ET followers of Carnage blow Of Mitrailleuse and Chassepot, And brag of all the deeds they've done With Armstrong and with needle gun; But we've a stronger weapon far To wield in Freedom's noble war. With it, my lads, the foe we'll chase, Each comp. can well defend his case. The printer's rifle is his sticky We load it with a click, click, click, Metal true is the shot we pick, Hurrah, hurrah, for the printer's stick! Our watchword is, "The people's good," We fight for that, yet spill no blood; Our banners broad, of black and white, ^^^^^^i^^^^^^^^^.^^:^^^^^'*^ THE PRINTER'S STICK. >5»-<»'^-^-«»>^-^-^^ 349 Make tyrants tremble with affright, We break in twain Oppression's rod, The people's foes we place in quad, Designing tools and factious knaves Must soon become our galley slaves. The printer's rifle is his stick. We load it with a click, click, click. Metal true is the shot we pick, Hurrah, hurrah, for. the printer's stick! Should fierce invaders dare to storm Our hearths and homes, each printer's form In steady columns, firm and grand, Would guard our dear adopted land; In Freedom's fight we do not join For power, or place, or paltry quoin. For battle we are always ripe, With leaders of the proper type. The printer's rifle is his stick, We load it with a click, click, click. Metal true is the shot we pick. Hurrah, hurrah, for the printer's stick! Privation cannot make us fly, For, lads, we're never short of pye, And if we should get full of that. At chapel we can pray for fat, o:) CO ♦5.#j>»j.^#5>:^v.^>.'^^^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. >s».«»4*>^*>«*>«»^5*4»^.4* We typos are a jolly set, We always take what w^e can get, The printer's soul knows no despair, Although his frame is sometimes bare. The printer's rifle is his stick, We load it with a click, click, click. Metal true is the shot we pick, Hurrah, hurrah, for the printer's stick! Unto the people we dispense A precious lot of solid sense; When public spouters (do not laugh) Are pumped by our reporting staff, And often when the "Ouse" divides. We jeff for our respective sides ; Some public heads, obtuse and thick. Are softened by the printer's stick! The printer's rifle is his stick, We load it with a click, click, click, Metal true is the shot we pick. Hurrah, hurrah, for the printer's stick! Then shout, lads, for the weapon bold. That shields the helpless, weak, and old, Who dares refuse will be knocked down. We'll make him shout, or smash his crown; Press onward in the cause of Right, •^^^^.»^.■»$.•5.•#?>.•*5^*^•»5.^^*>^THE PRINTER'S STICK. ^^4»4»4»4^^4!m4» 35 I The "Voice and Pen" mould Freedom's light, They form the candle and the wick, But still the printer holds the s/zc^f The printer's rifle is his s^z'c^, We load it with a click, click, click, Metal true is the shot we pick. Hurrah, hurrah, for the printer's s/zWx^f ^5;|§g^^%. CHINEE JOHNNY. APER men too muchy say, Chinee Johnny, ^ Too much yabber "Keep away Chinee Johnny," Welley good no sabby me, China make him plen tea. Emmigation welly flea, Chinee Johnny. '% Workey hard, too lilly pay, Chinee Johnny; Hump him bamboo all le day, Chinee Johnny; Grow him cabbage welly good, Dig him garden, chop him wood. Get him gole-ly, cook him spud, Chinee Johnny. »?v^»K*5«»5v»=K»5^^..^.?»=k»5^.i^-^^ CHINEE JOHNNY. -^<«>«*>5*'<*-^-^4«-«»-^.^ 3 5 ^ Me no sabby not come here, Chinee Johnny; No get drunky link him beer, Chinee Johnny; Welly good me make him fan, Cook him puppy in him f)an, Plen loom for Chinaman, Chinee Johnny. Steal him fowley nighty come, Chinee Johnny; Diggy wash-dirt shakey some, Chinee Johnny. Smalley wages me no blame, Inglisman work ally same. Eat him Chow-chow Cantong came, Chinee Johnny. Inglies, Ileies, Cotchman, Jew — Chinee Johnny; Plen gammon, talkey too — Chinee Johnny. Chinaman no wifey bling. No good women, all same ting, Play on tom-tom, ching, ching, ching! Chinee Johnny. YY 354 '^**<»*^*s>=^*^»s>'»5< MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^*4*>^>5*^5*.4*f>s*<»>5»>%» Play him fan-tan all night long — Chinee Johnny; Moke him opey, beat him gong — Chinee Johnny. Ingliesman say "Tax him Poll," Me go liggin, make him hole, Me get lichey plenny gole — Chinee Johnny. What for you no sabby me — Chinee Johnny? Me much Hghty you come hee — Chinee Johnny. Get him money, no stay long, Me go backy to Hong Kong, Paper talkey welly wrong — Chinee Johnny. OUR PET KANGAROO. (AN AUSTRALIAN IDYL, FOUNDED ON FACT.) E caught the )'oung marsupial One winter ere he learn'd to spring; His ma was shot, and from her pouch Hopp'd forth the frisky httle thing; His story's short — his mater s tail Was long and made a rich ragout — A novel and romantic feed — We all enjoyed that Kangaroo. The little orphan soon became Our pet: he quite familiar got. He jumped among the saucepans, though His loving ma had gone to pot: He throve so well, and grew so fat, Our chef de cuisine Chong Ah Loo Petitioned us to let him try His skill upon the Kangaroo. 2,^6^*^^^^^'^^^'^^^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILAND. ^^^^4:^^4:v^^^^-^ But no, — we scorn'd so mean a trick, And made the Tartar-tempter fly. He spoke of soup, and we could see The gravy in his almond eye — His bitter almond eye, for he Was cruel to be kind— "For you Me makey soupy welly lich. All samey puppy, Kangaloo." But from that day Chong never dared To make the same suggestion. We Some kittens lost — but that was not A serious catastrophe; Our native bear "vamoosed" one day, We missed our pure-bred bull-pup too, We mourned them not, but set our hearts Upon the tame young Kangaroo. We named him Budoj'eree — that's "ofood" In native lingo, as you know; He earned the appellation well; We watch'd our pet in goodness grow; We taught him many a harmless trick, — He couldn't smoke, but he could chew; We always found him "up to snuff" — He grew so 'cute, our Kangaroo. .p5c»5.:*5v-»?c^-#K^>c*?>.^>;^^>c*^OUR PET KANGAROO. ■^^»^<»<'*'^^<^^^^S 7 He followed us about the house, And on our rambles round the run; And when his kin we hunted down, He'd look sedate and watch the fun. We took him once unto a ball In Tapley's pub. at Bangaboo; And didn't he enjoy the hop? You bet he did — that Kangaroo. He skipped right through the gay quadrille, And joined the waltz's mazy whirl; He lick'd the fiddler's foaming pint. And kiss'd the hurdy-gurdy girl — ''£)u sollst es nicht tJmnr she exclaimed (Which means "Now don't! be quiet, do!") And no one there enjoyed the spree More fully than our Kangaroo. But thunder often follows calm. And clouds at times obscure the sun, Though old, those proverbs still are trite— The "Lancers" and a waltz were done. When Tapley jumped Lipon a chair, And said — "I've to announce to you That Dougal Gunn has just arrived:" All cheered except the Kangaroo. -I ^S 't^^^^p^^^^^--*^-*^*^ MUSINGS IN MAORILANU. -^4*>5*>^^^*4*;4»^<* Big Dougal was a kilted Celt Who never swore an English oath; He measured six feet three or four,— His tartans had not check'd his growth: At all the games he prizes won For bagpipe tunes. So well he blew, I thought and said, "He'll charm our pet, For sweet sounds please our Kangaroo." Then Doueal march'd around the room With ribbons streaming from his pipes ; His mien was royal, though he wore So many brilliant stars and stripes. With cheeks distended, he prepared To play the "March of Galium Dhu;" Our Budgeree surveyed the pipes. And wondered much, that Kangaroo. And now the instrument emits Preliminary grunts and groans; Notes, wild and fitful, rise and swell — The chanter struggles with the drones. And louder yet, and wilder still. The pibroch swells — when madly flew — Crash! smash! dash! — through the window panes Our peaceful pet, our Kangaroo! *$v'^.^«^^9^^^c*$c^v^v^^^.^.^9^ OUR PET KANGAROO.>5*^5*:4*^*^«*-«*-<»^4*^*<*359 The narrative is very sad — Full ten feet high, from off his tail, He'd sprung; he couldn't understand The martial music of the Gael. We gallop'd home in hopes to find Him safe and sound; but not a clue From that time out we ever found Of Budgeree, our Kangaroo. And often now on New Year's Day, When sound the war notes of the Celt Through New Edina's streets, old times Rush back, and cause my eyes to melt. Fond mem'ry conjures up that night In Tapley's pub. at Bangaboo, When Budgeree left home and friends, And fled afar — poor Kangaroo! Yes! yes! whene'er I hear the pipes, Old scenes will rise before my gaze, — I see the homestead lawn in spring, Where wealthy wattles, all ablaze, Made scented sunshades for the lambs; — But bah! I'm getting "quite too too:" I talk just like a bleating bard. While dreaming of that Kangaroo. PRINTED BY W. DRUGULIN, LEIPZIG — LONDON. r UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. vLLlDnAUi Aiwm i^^ (Vri v^. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY le^ AA 000 366 610 4 DO NOT r 300K card! CD VvILIBrS^Yq. %0JiTV3J0'^ University Researcli Library T -_J U ^^^^■,/-.■v-■... v.; -,■,'v.^^V^.•^'.■■■■•v•■^■^'■.'^■^''■>^^-rrr^•'■•;^^.^'^l^"Jn^V^W^